accidental caramel after midnight

i put on my shadow clothes & try not to die.
night makes a courier of me.
i deliever to myself all the words i do not want.
you asked for this body. you puppet 
your own sadness. i do or else i am not sure i do.
where do you have to put yourself to hear truth?
i have catacombs & wind tunnels.
all week, my darkness has grown thick & sweet. 
i never meant to be this staircased. 
everything i need is in the attic. is behind the moon. 
is etched onto glass. i find the thinnest tree
to duck behind. there, eat fingers one by one until dawn. 

strangulation poem

i drive boys to their friends house. midnight.
boys tell me they love me. boys buy me anything i want. 
no that's a lie. they don't. but in a dream, they do 
& i am worshipped. boys burn the house down. i forgive boys. 
boys put their hands on me. boys turn me into a chicken. 
boys pluck me. i used to think i was boys but i am not boys. 
if i was boys then how could i love boys? boys eat in bed. 
boys tell me i can't get enough. i am drowning in boys.
boys' knuckles tighten. i put my foot to boys' chests. boys
are always trying something new. i am always something new.
boys carve their name in my dormroom wall. i thank boys
even though i am not thankful. boys go & will be back. 

the spoon archive

i remember when i lifted myself to your lips
inside a wooden ladel. tonight, i put the sun
& the moon in a blender. drink contradiction.
hope to fall in love again. here is the spoon
i used to burry my faith in rebirth.
here is the hole in the yard that leads 
to a colony of silver. with the smallest spoon
i once had a friend scoop out my pupil
to be used as a scrying mirror. i thought
if i could not see the throat of the monster, 
i could survive. wrong wrong wrong. find my skeleton 
in the yard. i could unearth it but i don't. i leave it. 

remote control

the bees nest television 
is full of breaking news. basinettes 
for microphones. i no longer talk into mirrors. 
there are dolls in the control room
on the other side. when i say someone is always watching 
i mean the refridgerator is a garden of eyes. 
blink three times if you can hear me. 
when my hand moves without instructions
i pretend i am a puppet for an audience of piranhas. 
click a button & the road kill deer comes back to life. 
another rerun. i tell the bones, "let's try this again." 
they turn static & i get bored of it all.

fur coat

i want to disbelieve in scarcity
but it is all i know. my body, a maze 
of learned urgencies. tomorrow there will be no more
& today there is a lack of. i find a cow.
ask her for her hide. i promise to pay her back. 
the pasture is covered with ghost birds. everyone needs 
a new skin this year what with the fire
& frost & alarms. i put on my hooves to leap fences.
i will run until i reach eden. there, eat apples until i am dead. 
there is a chance i am wearing your life as a garden. 
when i am done, we can be brothers again.
for now, i understand if you need to haunt me. 

a history of loneliness

at our old house with wasps in the walls 
& thunder storms in its hair 
i would go to the cool concrete basement 
with a handful of french fries to feed the mice. 
our little secret. salt grains on my fingers. 
mice came child-like. soft-footed. fearful.
blackberry jewel eyes. i called them friends. 
they came to trust me. sitting near my bare feet 
as i brought a new morsel each day. sunflower seeds &
pineapple & blueberries. tiny pink tongues. 
at first, they just darted away, food in mouth. 
but they learned to linger with me there.

dollar store glasses

it was always fishtank season. i talked to our pennies 
until they they grew papery wings. fly away.
as a kid i saw the world like a monet painting.
bud & blurr & blossom. running through
a field of scissors & emerging with my skin
cut into ribbons. i felt every cough brambles made.
stroked moss on backs of trees. all fours. 
closed my eyes & tried to meditate but instead
gossiped with butterflies. after the woods,
my brother & i would go to dollar tree to try to see clearly.
put reading glasses on & squinted at plastic statues
of parrots & pirates. we never purchased a pair. 

stone's throw

i learned to measure distances between us
with fury. how a fist becomes 
a landmark. give me all the quartz
& i'll find the mirror where i am 
a butterfly-faced boy. my father told me
to go out into the forest & find a rock
worthy of his mouth. i searched for years.
found sea shells & squirrel skulls.
all the while he picked his teeth 
with wintergreen wood. i would day dream
of our reunion. his embrace like greeting 
a mountain. shoulders & shoulders & avalanche.

broth

i took bones of the dirt 
& water-plunged them in the rusted bottom pot.
hunger is a mouth discovered & burried. 
inside, my own bones dwindled. novembering forest. 
i learned to live on glances of fruit. red apple. tongue
of my eyes. steam from boil. carrot legs
& celery jaws & onion knuckles. we made broth
on sundays when fate had less fingers. i thought
of boiling myself. how sweet & melancholy.
wooden spoon dreaming itself back into a tree. 
this is a fantasy of return. to air. to water.  
drinking a spoonful. warmth ascending until i am roots again.

fuzzy handcuffs

i want to give you all my wrists
in a basket like a bushel of plums.
here is how a body is led to the edge of control.
you swallow the key & say, "now you're mine."
we can gift ourselves. should we gift ourselves? 
i have become an expert at feeding organs to neighbors.
jars of honey, syruped light, sit on the windowsill.
coming apart in symbols. my apples. my spearmint. 
i open mouth. there is a welcome mat there
make your home between my breathes. 
i will give you all the "yes" i have. yes, hold me here.
yes, call me capture. yes, make a relic of me.