DNA is it something in the twist of my DNA? the metal slide from the park-- are we descending? jacob's ladder of nucleic acids-- proteins & lipids-- the instructions for our bodies printed on a spiral staircase-- follow me up to the attic-- i packed the blue suite case full of stuffed animals-- we can clear a space on the floor & play-- oh god where did you write my brown brown eyes & where did you write the lonely ache beneath my fingertips-- is there someone else on this stair case or am i here alone going up & up & up or is it down? what direction do your memories whorl? whose ladder do you use to change the porch light bulb? i am someone to be coiled into-- someone to open the windows for-- i have resolved that it is something in my DNA-- in the smallest foot steps left in my chest that makes me like this-- like corkscrew promises-- like throbbing heels under my chest-- a man in boots pacing each rib-- i am a sleepless banister-- an anxious rung-- this ladder is made of guitar strings & deoxyribose-- i inherented the sugar phosphorus backbone from my father-- he in stubborn & far too attached to the persistence of ceilings-- perched on a cloud with a quill pen an angel wrote us-- his scroll curling-- helix of our headaches-- gyrating us into souls-- do you keep your brown eyes in the attic? have you ever tried to remove your DNA? i have-- took a bottle opener to my throat-- scraped & scraped as the double helix writhed & squirmed-- stab of my own finger nails trudging through flesh i begged for it to come free-- un write un write me-- i want to climb the attic stairs alone-- run away again-- pack the blue suit case & travel up & up or was it down? what direction do your brown eyes spiral? were you caught in a whirl pool of covalent bonds? i distrust these molecules-- i distrust ladders & the act of descending-- help me i want to take them out-- i want to live blankly & void-- i want to live without instructions-- a loose body dangling in uncertainty-- the metal slide at the play ground-- cold in the autumn-- always wear long pants-- it makes sliding down easier-- i'll pile my DNA outside my body as mulch & the neighborhood children with play-- swing higher than ever before-- land-- snap hydrogen bonds-- slowly i will dissemble-- become a molecule to be swallowed-- i hope when i drop i land facing the sky-- you told me that every night you look for Orion's belt-- i want to gaze with that comfort of knowing that there's someone else with brown eyes & staircases still trapped just beneath the skin-- twist with me-- grab me DNA handfuls-- the attic is waiting-- up & up or was it down?
12/22
semi-automatic is it naive of me to want to replace these bullets with rain? trigger thunder clap-- the god of lightning was displeased at humans incessant fixation on destruction-- as inevitable as the discovery of fire thus was the discovery of the bullet-- dropped from a grey cloud-- at first mistaken for hail-- they will tell you that there are bullets in your teeth-- they will tell you that the first bullet was from Prometheus-- the heroic defiling of the gods-- we revel in our own ability to draw blood-- how human how human it is to bleed oh this is our manifest destiny-- we expel metal-- we hone death down to the acuteness of a trigger-- we all learned about guns from our fathers-- from our backyards-- we learned that the eyes of deer are made of copper & to be used as bullets-- in my attic as i dug through card board boxes yet to be unpacked since we'd moved i discovered a small black gun-- trembling-- electro-magnetic pull-- i clasped her body-- the barrel-- the sleek trigger-- i aimed upwards towards heaven in case the gun discharged-- i didn't want to be holding her-- i wanted to burry the gun & never see it again-- i wondered who in my family would own such a tool-- i wanted so badly to test out the trigger-- as humans we have all been taught to pull triggers-- to absurd the kick back into our shoulders-- aim high past the ceiling light-- into the forehead of the clouds-- i pointed at god unknowingly-- snap of the gun-- laugh of a bullet i meant to replace with rain but instead burst into the white belly of heaven-- come blood in a drizzle-- a reddish mist-- fog-- thumb print teeth-- the ankles of my hands-- i stumbled-- the roof was a cloud running away from me-- a child wrong by the promise of the gun-- the snake was a gun & the each bullet another blood red apple for us to bite into-- at recess when i was eight & we were pretending to be robbers our fingers were semi automatic & when the teacher asked what it was that our guns fired we told her gumballs-- we all knew they were bullets-- it is grossly naive of me to sit here while rain drops chase each other off the ledge of a cloud & think that maybe just maybe they could explode from the barrel of a gun-- through our canvas shoes-- leave us dripping instead of dead-- oh god, don't forgive your trigger children-- it was me who aimed upwards-- recoiled back down into the earth-- please take back your bullets-- too silver-- too metal too fast
12/21
ripen let's eat the green bananas from a top the fridge-- i was not ready to be naked for you-- but there we were in the patience of each other's shadows-- peels in the trash can-- fingers caught in mouths of string-- we are never ready are we? i keep waking up in kitchen cabinets-- i ask my father to unpeel the clementines still in the basket hoping one of them will be me-- i have been waking up in the back yard-- i have been remembering my tooth pick sinews-- my stale popcorn marrow-- buttery & cold in the morning on the kitchen counter-- handful by handful-- let's eat our oranges sliced in smiles-- teeth still stung from tooth paste-- impatience is the first sign you are in too much love-- it's rising-- up to your neck-- do you remember how you learned to tread water? do you remember the intimacy of swim lessons? how it was the first time you learned what your body felt like when touched? this is self-love making-- this is the bitter white strawberries who were picked too soon & will in fact never ripen no matter how long you leave them in the door of the fridge-- i'm still persuading the red out from under my skin-- i'm still learning what kind of naked i want to be & there you came along & ate green bananas with me-- & there you came along & woke me up from the back yard & told me to come inside-- they say the apple doesn't fall far from the tree & out there in the frosted stubble grass i was looking higher & higher-- what kind of branch could have held a body like mine? i was green & fresh when you loved me-- i was a clumsy dive into a chlorine thick pool-- belly slapped from impact-- you were the water-- the hard thick vast water-- the finger nail beneath the skin of the orange-- ripening is a myth you know? no matter how many nights you wait in the heat of the freckled sky you will never be as vibrant as you are now-- your skin the color of limes-- there's mint leaves in your teeth-- stop waiting-- i want to learn to stop waiting for myself-- stop trying to dig the syrups & the sugars from my arteries saying this this this will make you love me-- this will make me taste better so i say lover let's eat the green bananas from on top of the fridge i have no patience for mornings-- i am ripe-- i am treeless i am stale i am so so anciently green-- when you find me asleep in the yard know that the sound of the clouds will wake me-- i'm not asking you to wait for me-- i'm just saying you can
12/20
mood ring if we all wore mood rings you could hold me tight between your finger & your thumb until i blushed blue & in love with you-- you could read me-- change my temperature & i could press you until you became beige & restless-- when i was 8 i got a mood ring at a gift shop on the beach & i spent the next few days holding the glossy colorful surface to different locations on my body-- my neck-- the skin of my soft palms-- this is how i discovered the shades of my blood-- my soul dripping cyan & yellow-- lime green & adventurously red did you know a soul could be red? & when you hold me i won't know what color i'll turn because i've long since lost my mood rings-- given up on the colors laying beneath dormant in my body-- somewhere on the beaches of assateague between waves eager to finally break & the gritty sand caked on my knees i lost my mood ring while searching for the color pink inside my-- i was delving for the uncertain-- the fearful-- the froth of surf & sunset bruising in the distance-- if you clasp yourself tight enough you can become any color & so i did & now i'm 21 & i don't have a mood ring but when you cupped me like water i leaked auburn & amber-- wild & mauve you let me go-- you let me seep into the soil-- a rainbow in formation-- a wave attempting to break-- come here & let me coax the colors from under your skin-- i want to see your grey- blue soul shake water from your hair-- & when i lost my mood ring i felt oddly free-- as if i no longer had a barometer for my heart beat-- as if the only color i had to feel was the red throbbing of my sunburn shoulders-- peeling as i surveyed the damages in a full length mirror-- i stung all over-- heat pulsing-- i wondered what color i would be if i hadn't lost the mood ring in the ocean-- if i hadn't warn it so dangerously & i wept indigo & vermilion-- amaranth & aquamarine-- laughing-- oh let me hold you tonight-- there are so many hues left to surface in you-- i want to touch you-- i want to help you feel them-- look our hands are amethyst-- trust me-- put on this mood ring & run away into the azure ocean with me-- this time we'll get lost on purpose-- break with me in rainbows-- press me to your neck-- your blood was sunset bruised & mine was still sunburned & red
12/19
my father & i buy ice i was twelve & in the heat of july my father drove me up the street in his senile blue jeep to go buy ice at the kutztown bottling works-- i craved the walk-in freezer-- day-dreamed of her wideness-- her rows of straight white teeth-- the beer store worker with his stubble & loose grey t-shirt would take the first key from his key ring to unlatch the door-- cold breath emanating-- tundra thumbed-- polar bear promises echoed across my prickled goose bump skin-- my father would send me inside-- the scout-- i proceeded on horse back into the wasteland of bagged ice-- set to return to sweaty-palmed summer reverberating off the pavement-- to my father's tin foil car with hot seats & broken rear view mirrors-- there i meandered deeper i imagined staying in the freezer-- pushing the door shut & living among to haphazard mountains of artificial ice & i thought of all the miracles of stillness & how maybe with the door shut i could finally stop time long enough to think-- i was twelve & my stomach was round with cinnamon raisin bagels & i was scared of my skin & becoming a middle- schooler & having to fall in love soon-- i was scared of how quickly midnights gave themselves away & whether or not the ice would melt before we got home & if i would melt along with it-- the first time we visited the walk-in freezer my father shut the door to show how there was a safety lock-- to prove that if the door ever shut behind us that we wouldn't freeze to death-- i wished life had more safety locks & more walk in freezers where time could go & lay itself down in bags-- fabricated mountains-- i grabbed a handful of ice & chewed-- taking the freezer into my body-- giving up all claims i had to time-- this was of course before i met you & much much before i met myself but i understand her-- coveting the coldness-- her father calling from the other side of the thick shut door & her wondering if there was anywhere to hide so that she could stay longer-- she wanted to take apart her bones & her fat & lay there as a bag of ice-- unable to dissolve in the graceless heat of the sun scolding her from above-- skin tinged red-- headache a jingle of the key ring & the door swung open again-- my father walked inside & took me by the hand-- i lied & said the safety latch was stuck & he slung a sack of ice over his shoulder-- the cold persisted through my body the whole drive home & i sat on our porch-- sensing my bones returning from ice-- & this was before you knew me but if you happen upon a walk in freezer step inside for me-- feel time resign-- your blood turn to black ice in the drive way you can have my brown brown eyes & my goose-bump gravel skin-- next time my father won't be there to open the door-- & summer won't wait with eager insults & i will sculpture myself still
12/18
will you teach me how to fall asleep? every so many nights i forget again what sleep is & i lay awake with the color of the ceiling getting harsher & harsher above my head-- heart vanishing into moths with no light to fly towards-- the darkness of my room takes on the body of the mountains-- looming--framing the sky-- clenched knuckles white-- above me i watch you become a hole in the ozone-- the ceiling a kind of wound to let in our ultra violet sex-- will you teach me how to fall asleep again-- press your warm thumbs over my eye-lids & teach me how deep we can each trip behind our own shut eyes-- what kind of darkness is there to stumble upon? what kind of rocks will tremble in me? i'm asking you because i trust you-- because i know that sleep has escaped from you too-- in all different wave lengths-- left our bodies sun burnt in shadow-- love me red & throbbing-- do you remember who first taught you to sleep? i think it was the god hypnos-- his cave guarded by poppies-- cancerous soldiers-- forgetfulness flowing-- the river lethe-- there in his ebony bed-- devoid of light & sound there was nothing left to do but to discover sleep & in doing so claims half of our lives-- the reflection-- oh live in these mirrors with me i want to be opposite tonight-- take my hand when we walk into his grotto-- if you forget my voice replace it in your memory with the drip of melted snow from the roof-- i will remember yours as the sound of moth wings beneath my ribs-- is your bed made of ebony & do you eat poppies to fall asleep-- help me peel off my skin-- oh i feel like a snake & when we wake up there will be no more ozone & we will live red & scratch ourselves open again & again but for now i want to bask in your stillness-- your imageless soundless form-- lurking with me in the birth place of all of our first sleeps-- oh & thinking of you how it that even here i feel the sun's deadly bright eyes eviscerate me-- leave me flowing forgetful over the knuckles of the rocks-- what was your name & is it you who will teach me how to fall asleep? you with your skeleton overtaking the ceiling-- the heavens were always a type of scar to be had-- this time when i lay down in bed i'll remember you & me & our lost anatomy in his grotto-- heavy weary with travel-- when you find sleep again will you please come back-- bite my ear-- kiss my neck-- i would give up all light & sound for the warmth of your body-- i'll be waiting for you-- break through the mirror & spend your seven years of bad luck in a dream with me-- sleep tastes metallic-- trickle of blood-- snow thaw
12/17
if i fall asleep while driving i hope i dream of us-- of the highways of your hair & the knots in our tongues-- i hope my car somersaults like me in the grass when i was 7 & just learning how to flip the world upside down-- we all loved hour glasses & trying to perform hand stands-- back against the wall-- crash into the corn field-- fracture the windows-- feed the tires to the krakens-- the deer will find me somewhere through the night sky-- crash of stained glass & drop of the moon on the dining room floor-- on Old Mill road-- did you hear it shatter & did you hear me fall asleep? it was as loud as the snow-- a quiet series of kisses & regrets-- my eyes just envelops to shut & send you all the thousands of ways i've see you-- when you read my letters do so in the open air so that those pieces of my soul can climb back up into the clouds-- do you feel all the high beams gleaming from your body? last night my car was warm & i closed my eyes at stop lights-- telling myself that i could nod off for just one moment just one moment & i wanted someone to take over-- to drive me home while i leaned the passenger seat back & slept through the rolling shoulders of Pennsylvania-- no one wants to drive themselves home-- if i fall asleep while driving-- drift into the adjacent lane-- rapture in someone else's headlights-- i hope you know that my evaporation will be sudden & painless like the martyrdom of deer jumping out of the woods at precisely the wrong times-- loving you was like swerving to miss a doe-- her glassy coal eyes brandished in the middle of the road-- loving you was like falling asleep at the wheel-- the chaos of warmth-- the thrill of open windows in winter-- my goose bump skin heavy with gravel-- i pull over to pick up the fragments of the moon-- how will we know when the sky is new without her? how will the waves of our bodies know to come back to shore? i wanted to call you-- tell you to talk to me so that i didn't fall asleep but i also wanted to temp my body-- see how much i wanted to drive home-- how much i wanted to wake up tomorrow in the carcass of a vehicle-- corn field stubble of my legs-- the deer huddled around me-- wondering how it was that a human could sleep while moves so fast-- they teach me to have four legs & they carve out hunks of night-sky for my eyes & i become enamored of headlights-- craving your high beams in my body-- if i fall asleep while i'm driving home come look for me & when you find my over-turned green volvo that is where you start walking-- wait for night fall-- i'll be the deer-- breath pouring mist into bare december
12/16
tail-lights & you said that that all those tail-lights looked like strings of christmas lights lit up for miles ahead-- red flicker & blink in the snow turning grey-- slush beneath tire-- it's too early for it to stick-- ground warm from our boots & our anixous cross-walking afternoon-- somehow whenever we get lost in the city it snows & i'm forced to remember kissing you in your driveway & every light grows bolder-- flashing off layer after layer of white-- who trusted the buildings to grow so high around us? how trusted us to become so old now-- with our dry chapped hands & dislocated homes-- when i say i want to go home i mean i want to be warm & to be someone not stopping & going-- somewhere with a windowsill to lean on & watch the snow from-- pretend that it will all never melt or turn to ugly slush seeping into my socks-- when i say i want to go home i think i'm thinking of my bed & my three layers of blankets & my uncleaned coffee mug still in the sink-- it's the tiny things you realize you miss when you're stuck in christmas lights-- entangled in each other-- how long have we been tail-lights & how red are we now? & are the other cars around us real or just a large amount of ghosts also traveling home from philadelphia against their better judgement on a friday night-- peer into their windows-- their shadow mothers faces pale in iPhone light-- children with their noses pressed to back windows-- breathe fog-- finger print-- their radio-less sounds-- their silent-- pantomime lives-- each seem to move slower & slower-- oh i believe in all these ghosts-- will they follow me home when i figure out where that is? will they roll down their windows & let the snow over come them-- that what i want to do-- open the doors & abandon the car in the middle of the grey grey highway-- weave between ghost to the side of the road where the massive silhouette of the city smiles down at her front porch of tail-lights-- hands in her pockets-- sky-scrapers tall-- she teaches us how to fall gently like snow or sea gull feathers-- feet held up by water-- we transverse the schuykill river & boat house row gives us her murky grin-- wet socks drying on the heater-- we are home in our christmas light veins & somewhere the car still rolls forward-- ushered along by the other ghosts on the express-- every time we go into the city it snows & we can't escape but yes i still think of kissing you-- blizzard blinded by love or maybe it was just the snow-- follow my tail-lights home
12/15
did i catch you in my fishnets? & did you thrash? skin & scale-- the school of tuna with their pencils in their mouths-- writing poems about non-conformity on the bellies of the blue whales-- skin graffiti under- water where the sun is a bleary-drunk dream & you felt me around you-- constricting-- black mesh squeeze body-- try to kiss me through the net-- you were the dolphin i snagged by accident-- the one we pointed at from the shoreline-- blue back flashing between wave & sun & no one believed in you-- we swore you were just another swell or a mermaid tempting us to swim out past the sand bar-- laughing with the round bellies of the gulls-- i waded in neck-deep & that was when i caught you & you never asked to be let go-- i'm a emerald-gleaming python-- grip tightening while you inhale & inhale until there is no room for air & of course you grew gills for me-- pulled us under water where no one has a face & salt sting in your eyes-- love is blinded & ripe-tide torrent-- here is where blue became blue-- snagged on a cloudy day where there were at least vaporous bodies to jostle into-- if you hadn't been so graceful out there-- skin evincing sun revealing the beautiful simplicity of our tiny tiny sky-- so close that the dolphins swim on into it when humans get bored of searching for them on the horizon-- i took my fish nets off leg by leg & let them float off into the water-- i missed them-- the way the world swarmed me when i showed how easy it would be for a big fish to swallow me-- my tight skin & tune-fish scales-- school thrumming on either side-- i feel the others in my stomach-- the pulse of their oceans growing quieter-- how long did it take you to remember the school of fish who once formed your body? do you still remember becoming whole again? all those gaping lid-less eyes blinking in the reflection of the moon on the water-- she rises-- fish-net faced & dripping-- picks us up in her pale hands & asks us what boys & girls are doing swimming out past the sand bar in december-- blue-lipped & marbel skinned-- you mistook yourself for god & i mistook myself again for a fisher of men-- nets growing back across my legs like ivy-- like vine-- like the good slut-- i hope you get caught again-- i liked it when we were tangled so close-- straining in the blood-shot eyed sun-- my father lines his beer bottles up by the side of the bed-- my mother-- cuts off my fish- nets & knows they will grow back-- oh lover-- will you learn what it means to be narrow with me?
12/14
what day is it? no i don't mean day of the week or # i mean what day is it? what did the stars tell you when they perched on the telephone wires? they laughed & dropped feathers that were also snow-- did you open your mouth to catch them? what day is it? is this the day you start sleep walking again? meandering up the side road & into the carcass of that house with boarded up windows-- some days i feel like a house with boarded up windows & feral cats living in my ankles-- dandelions burst through my floors-- reaching-- yearning to become trees or telephone wires so they could listen to the conversation i had with friends from fifth grade when you had to wait till 9am to use the home phone-- practice your greeting in the reverberation of the bath tub & her mirrors-- what day is it? is today the day i jumped out the second story window-- or the one when i climbed up on our slanted roof & wondered if the fall would break me & i tumbled down scale & shingle-- is today the day i slept on the scratchy carpet of my bed room? joints burning like apples-- how red was my sunrise & how many of my conversations are still living in the telephone wires? somewhere i am asking Karl to come over so that we can play with my new video camera-- yank movies from backyard-- we will someday be great film directors & if not then of course we will be myth busters & we will be on the discovery channel-- painting the global-logo in the bottom left-hand corner of the screen-- when i wake up i will take the boards off the windows so the sun can be as vermilion & vicious as it wants-- follow the faded pages of the sidewalk-- one way that i track down the day is by checking a book out from the library-- they'll have to use the rubber stamp-- turning to the back pocket i will follow the numbers until i find the day this particular book will be late because i in fact am at least consistent in my lateness of library books-- is it that day then? the day a library book was late? the day you were late again to come visit but oh how it made me love you harder-- i beg you to trust is people with overdue library books & just know they're trying-- i'm trying-- today is a day i'm trying & i'm sorry for the maraschino-cherry morning & the laughing of the stars & the crows eating poison berries from my hair-- i'm trying-- yes today i'm trying trying to tight rope balance-- your knees were river rocks-- you made fun of me for saying you wrists remind me of door knobs-- i'm sorry-- i was only trying to find a way to say that you are the door i always want to open-- that you can twist me-- take your shoes off on the porch-- today might have been the day that we turned each other-- i could be mistaken-- it's been at least seven over due library books since i've seen you-- if you happen upon a telephone wire & you hear my old voice i would want her to know i'm trying & i want you to know i'm trying & today is a day-- i'll wait laying on the carpet-- stomach towards the moon-- what kind are you?
