& by "let's watch a movie" i mean i'm looking for a slick way to ask you to hold me longer-- for approximately 1h45min to 2h30min-- this is how i ask you to kiss me while the credits roll--faint ending music falling over us-- we lay dripping with the names of costume artists-- producers & sound editors-- shake their letters off blankets-- when i say "let's watch a movie" i mean oh love, will you close the blinds-- i don't want the street lamps to remind me that beneath our skin is only light i mean let me set my earrings on the end table-- i want to show you how to unravel me sock by sock-- an inside out t-shirt-- the foot steps of my back-- i mean i'll teach you the constellations only i know-- there-- can you see the willow tree from the gravel road behind my parent's house -- it's arms of comets-- trunk thick as orion's belt-- i'm really just asking you how long you want to hold me & if my room is dark enough for you to notice how small i am & how small i feel loving you-- yes right there-- on the ceiling-- that's me heart-- only an arrangment of stars-- a myth a constellation i'm asking you to trace the lines on my hands all the way down the streets outside-- come find me-- kiss me on the neck-- tell me what you've been thinking about & i'll tell you i've been writing-- & writing & writing & writing writing contellations i can show you-- writing my mouth across your chest-- when i say "let's watch a movie" i mean-- here-- this is how to love me-- treat me gently-- my blood vessels rapture-- supernova for you
11/05
he pulls another trigger//gunshot brother like swallowing birds-- blue jay blue jay a dive bomb down my throat-- sky-- a shadow puppet-- we--the silhouettes of hands projected on god's bed room ceiling-- earth shook-- recoil-- we watch an avalanche rewind-- boulders back into place & there is my brother holding a gun-- shooting a gun-- he doesn't aim-- there's bullet-hole wounds in the clouds-- they stagger home-- they cry mother mother-- as they bleed rain-- as they shake in each other's arms-- look what you've done-- you've brought grey into the bedroom ceiling-- how am i supposed to sleep with the echoing of each gun shot-- ricochet bullets-- each star rings-- pinball machine-- i am that little silver ball-- that little silver ball in the pinball machine-- in gun barrel-- Billy pulls the trigger-- & suddenly it's a water gun & no one is afraid anymore-- imagine if it was always a water gun-- a man standing at Los Vegas with a water gun-- a hotel room full of water guns-- dead bodies from water guns-- their bodies melting into dew-- we people of morning dew & sun-shower-- that's how easy we break isn't it? & the sky didn't bleed-- not yet-- & there couldn't never have been enough triggers-- & I was a child-- we were children-- barefoot backyard July-- dropped water balloons from the deck on Billy's head-- below my feet earth shook-- who know a water balloon could also be a fire bomb striking Tokyo-- match stick head people-- flames scalding feet-- who taught us to play with such weapons? who fills a bomb with fire? we say-- it was water-- it was always a water gun-- & the sun recoils & laying in my room i look up at the shadow puppets marching to war on my ceiling-- i hear the faint but clear snap of my brother's gun-- he's just shooting-- there's nothing to aim at-- there's only a row of trees taking shrapnel in their knees-- i am the silver ball-- i'm lodged in soft damp earth it's quiet there finally-- i'm laying on bed & my ceiling starts to bleed-- clear rain-- i tell it to stop-- i tell the ceiling that there's nothing wrong with guns-- they're only full of water-- it's just like rain-- it's just like rain-- i say as the walls shake of these reverberations-- is that church bells? someone knocking this time of night? i swallow another flock of blue jays-- becks & claws scratching my all the way all the way down-- he pulls another trigger
11/04
in search of medusa today i woke up already feeling like a stone so i figured i would go & find medusa-- turn statue-- feel this body heavy as it can be-- i woke up wanting to sink so badly-- wanting to feel every inch of myself grey & ponderous-- touch me-- i'm cold-- i'm marble & stone-- your daughter of bones-- phosphorus femur & child of clavicles-- oh statue statue-- i have been told before that medusa was an oak tree-- a handful of dry leaves-- that she laughed in the ripples of a frigid late-autumn stream-- there--trickling down from a gash in my knee-- i tripped & broke like a white carton of eggs-- sticky in my own hands-- these yolks-- these un-used suns & some people say medusa takes walks by the creek-- some say she works the drive through window at McDonalds-- others claim they have heard the hiss of her serpents as she paces library shelves-- she's just been searching for a place she can be less of a burden-- her snake hair bites air-- sometimes even her own face-- fang marks on her cheeks-- oh they call her hideous-- winged female monster-- & she reads about herself from a big book of mythology in one of the comfy chairs in farthermost corner of the library next to musty encylopedias from 1986 & maps with sea monsters snarling from each corner-- i approach her cautiously-- put my hand up to calm one of her snakes only to be bitten-- i lick the blood off my knuckle go she says go you don't want to be stone-- i promise you-- you don't want to be stone-- i tell her that i already feel so heavy-- that i already feel the carpet as the ocean & i sink & sink & sink-- sinking past the ghostly hull of the titanic & amelia airheart's plane & atlantis's bright city lights-- i ask her if she can see me sinking medusa-- she doesn't glance at me-- she glues her green eyes to book page-- she reaches out clumsily for my hand-- we interlock fingers-- she points to a line in the text "Medusa was beheaded by the hero Perseus-- her head retained the ability to turn it's onlookers to stone" i frown-- close book-- i tell her there is nothing about her that is hideous-- that they don't understand her-- that they don't understand us-- i beg her to see me-- turn to me so that i can be as heavy as i felt beneath my covers this morning-- heavy as i feel trapped in my own gravel skin-- i feel the snakes of my hair bite gashes on across my forehead & neck-- i bleed like dew-- oh medusa hold my hand in yours-- we'll keep our faces to books-- i can be your statue of skin & heavy heavy bone--
what kind of boy
this is a gay poem this is a gay poem for two reasons-- because i'm writing it & because it's about loving you-- this is a poem about what kind of boy you make me-- i'm a kaleidoscope-- turn me i'll be whatever color your want-- the broken stained glass windows of the church that taught me to pray-- of what is my penance for this-- is there an amount of hail mary's that will make my love for you & my body something other than a sin-- oh mother what kind of son picks glass from his heels-- oh i don't believe in confession but i go anyway-- i take i write all the things wrong with me underneath my tongue & hope that kissing you can be some form of forgiveness-- oh you're never ready to love someone-- & no one is ever ready to love you-- it's not about being ready-- it's about how many times you're willing to have someone else look through you-- searching for the right color-- the right shade of man i have become-- the right shade of girl my god thinks i am-- & he calls me wife of Abraham & i say i'm married to the color the sky was this morning through my window-- yes this is another gay poem by a gay boy who feels the day around him like fist-- course knuckles of my father-- this day has scales-- sheds it's skin-- leaves bite marks on my ankles this day is the snake Mary didn't bother to step on-- no fuck that this isn't a gay poem-- this is a boy poem this is a boy poem about wanting to grow a stained glass window-- water it & have it never ever break-- if i were to die today i want to be remembered as the color the sun was through me window-- fish-tail heart beat under covers-- oh what do you know of this boy? this kaleidoscope-- you love to turn & turn
11/03
cassette tape i fear i will come apart like this-- ribbon by ribbon entangled in the repetition of my own voice-- this is the one song i know how to sing-- rewind me-- run your fingers over my topography of sound-- how does my whole voice feel in your hands? maybe it feels like a coin dropped in the rain-- i lay heads up for your to spend me on a gumball-- i'm thinking of the video tape player on top of the square black living room tv-- i'm thinking of it's nasty habbit of eating the ribbon from the tape-- memories down its throat-- it was so hungry-- there went the ghosts of noise & shadow & bodies pulled thinner & thinner-- oh most days i want rewind myself in bed at night as the moon lays there beside me-- a rusted penny-- i tease it & say that we're both two old cassette tapes collecting only the clamor of rain on our bodies-- i lay & only out of curiosity-- i pull myself apart-- thumb prints on my own strands of hymnal-- here is written the memory of our whole family sitting in the second row pew & singing Ave ave ave Maria-- oh Maria & your cassette tape skeleton-- oh just like mine-- pack yourself back up-- it's morning-- it's rewind-- it's time to speak backwards & re-write the story of your tongue-- i find love poems cliche so i only write them backwards while i thread myself back together-- warm & safe between two soft blankets & the sun outside was almost a chicken but god went & cracked it on the edge of the pan-- sunny side up-- it's november now & i'm starting this recording with the tunes of the sparrows by my window, the metronome clicking of my heart, & the sound the sun makes as it cracks & sizzles
11/02
you are my cup of grey sky you are my cup of grey sky-- pouring down over the uneven sidewalk-- i wake up in the morning on a quest to pull back in the breath i lost in the cold morning air-- how did we let it become november? how i get here on this street tracing your silhouette in the curvature of each lamp post neck-- where did my spirit go when i exhaled so loudly that it left me? i fog my own glasses-- am i a cloud in your grey grey sky or a kaleidoscope you peer through-- broken stained glass sunset under your feet-- i had been a green beer bottle-- a blue & yellow dinner plate dropped on the red speckled kitchen floor like a laugh-- a laugh of a thousand pieces-- & this sidewalk is uneven & prone to letting us trip all over the idea of each other-- this is me working on another poem for you-- this is me trying to not let myself become a cloud in the midst of all this writing about you-- i'm pouring out i'm pouring out-- a spilled inkwell-- spirit climbing sleepily up each rung of naked maple trees-- yes, it's november & every single leaf fell while i was busy making you my cup of grey sky-- maybe you can find where my breathe wondered off to on this cold morning-- until then put me to your eye & close the other-- here i am your kaleidoscope boy-- what kind of sunset can do you see through me?
11/01
alarm clock// meteor shower my alarm clock is the same meteor that killed the dinosaurs-- a scream-- a fire-tail-- i always feel it approaching-- it's cold-heavy body full of so much rage-- of plunging wrath-- it looses it's black feathers in the fall-- i lay gripping bed frame-- i fear becoming nothing but a crater-- filled in with rain water-- scientists will come to inspect me-- they will run fingers over my banks-- over my elbows stones & bolder knees-- they will conclude that my face is nothing but a place where a meteor once smacked the earth-- this crater in my jaw-- in my pelvis--my clavicle-- all these meteor showers my body has endured-- each morning i watch their descent-- their fierce & vengeful plummet towards the surface of my bones will you hide under the bed with me? will you hold me still & tell me to close my eyes for five minutes more of sleep-- will you tattoo the red alarm clock times all over my skin? line by line by line-- tell me this is all part of waking up-- the etching of the hours into blood-- i tremble-- your timpany drum-- my flesh knows when impact is coming-- wrap yourself around me & when the walls of my room scream-- i want you to be silence-- silence receding into every corner-- silence i grab onto like the edges of my mother's quilt-- i open my eyes to survey the damages-- the cavity pounded through my rib cage-- a valley i become valley each morning-- i open my eyes & fill myself with rain water-- a bowl a basin-- hush the howl of my alarm-- kiss your forehead & get up-- in the bathroom before the mirror i lift up my shirt to see where the meteor made impact-- this is the same meteor that killed the dinosaurs-- it comes back each morning for me-- tomorrow will you hold me still again? your ink thumb print your foot step in the mud-- your crater lover-- fill me with rain water & float above-- you can be a cloud & i'll me the sky each morning shatters as we wake
10/31
if i were to be bit by a vampire this halloween i imagine it would be a surprisingly casual encounter-- maybe i'd be going out to get the mail & a man in a black cape would approach-- we'd make small talk & i would notice his transyvanian accent & make nothing of it until of course he'd lean over & bite my neck-- there's something sensual about that isn't there? or is it just me? maybe i'd on the bus into norristown sitting next to a strange tall man-- we'd talk about the absurdity of candy corn or the monster mash playing on the radio for the eight time that morning & before you know it he'd bite me & you know the people around wouldn't think much of it considering it is halloween & encounters with the undead are rather common-- i would knock at your door & ask you to let me in-- you'd probably tease me & my new vampire form mocking "i'll let you in but only if you say pretty pretty please" i guess i'd have to get an umbrella-- a large black umbrella to keep from burning up in the sun-- no one would ask me why my skin was so pale considering i already generally have the complexion of a vampire-- come to think of it things wouldn't actually be that different-- i would lay awake at night knowing that sleep wouldn't be coming-- i would lay awake asking you to let me in the front door-- my body only a shadow-- a dark form cast by the moon-- i would lay awake & mourn my body that once slept-- mourn dreams of flight-- then of course i'd remember that i could indeed turn into a bat & fly but it wouldn't be the same as that dream flight-- that world un-tethered-- like becoming an infinite swing-set-- a pendulum-- higher & higher above the tree in my bat wings-- a little girl who is also me would point up & ask her father if that is a bat flying-- thin wings slicing through nighttime clouds & he would say yes & point to me darting tree to tree to tree-- i would travel the whole town over to see everyone in their halloween costumes-- i'd see myself the 11 year old grim reaper-- the little blue alien-- a power puff girl there i'd stand-- wobbly legged a 3 year old pumpkin-- holding the hands of my mother & father-- i'd grow vines-- plucked from the patch-- i'd be carved & they'd place a candle in my throat-- oh how i'd glow-- oh how i used to glow-- there are so many years in one halloween night-- by the end i would feel heavy & almost sleepy-- glide back home on the faint wind chime laughter of trick-or-treaters i would take a shower-- hang up my black cape & attempt to brush my fangs in the mirror only to remember that i lost my reflection too-- sighing i touch the foggy mirror-- draw a smiley face-- oh to live the life of a vampire-- asking asking asking to be let in-- i'd pull the candle out of my throat-- hang from the ceiling to sleep
10/30
melancholia: a state of planting flowers & forgetting to water them-- the marigolds that flicker in the windowsill-- i made my rib cage into a dock for you to keep your sail boats-- sway-- lunge tide-- water higher & higher up to our necks-- have you seen a mermaid? have you fallen in love with a mermaid? her body wrapped in seaweed-- she is your sail to unfurl-- catch gale-- these bones are wooden-- gnawed at by sea water-- this is what it's like loving a poet-- there are so many words in my head sometimes it feels like drowning in the drain of a thousand throats & oh i love it-- their voices echo in me-- me the ear pressed to the conch shell-- me to open book full of wet soil-- this year i plant marigolds in the windowsill-- electric candles-- they remind me that at home there is a body waiting for me-- & that body has thumbs for planting more seeds-- pray for rain-- if nothing else pray for rain--pray for a shower head & warm water--fingers running through hair-- soap clouds-- rain rain rain & the flame in the window was always a flower trying to dig roots into plaster wall-- i feel like a piano being rained on in some music video for a song i want to sing along to but don't honestly know the lyrics-- here-- if you need a place to stop for the night your ships can rest -- tie rope to dock-- the tide rises to our necks-- stand tip-toe with me in the deep end-- what are we doing here?-- isn't it october? i have snake teeth left over from august-- i have a love for you left over from august-- i'm a summer bond lover sticking the wet leaves back in the trees-- i don't like to watch the world so full of falling-- the only thing the rain is good for is kissing-- yes then-- i'll be the friendly garter snake-- the one who crawls on his belly behind those flowers i will inevitably forget to water-- i won't bite-- wear me like a necklace i want to wrap around you-- i don't want you to fall for the mermaids-- their song a faint hum on my docks-- my bones are made of wood-- there are marigolds glowing in the windowsill for us to find our way back to these bodies-- i drowned in word again but here i am-- i'm back for you-- your garter snake-- your august lover-- melancholia man catching rain in a bucket as it drips from the ceiling--
10/29
you should have disappeared years ago i stole melatonin from the catacombs-- felt my bed room walls origami fold me a crane -- me, a body-- creased mouth bent spoon neck-- paper cut thumbs-- 1,000 cranes i folded-- is this enough to ask the gods to name a star for me to keep? cosmic pocket change-- i clamor like dimes-- suns burn craters in my thighs those gnat buzzing stars-- oh how they pour from our chimney-- & so on & so on i sway a yo-yo string-- pull me back up against the asteriods's cold hard chest trapeze artist balanced between each side of my rib cage-- he falls frequently-- climbs ladder rung spine-- climbs esophagus-- the plastic play ground slide you should have disappeared a years ago the magician says as he places me inside his hat as he covers my mouth with a white glove as i feel myself burst white rabbit as he blows me into a bubble-- oil spill rainbow skin you should have disappeared-- so so many years ago inside dust cover-- weight of a novel pressed against bone words thrust across chest-- type-writer kiss on type-writer kiss-- so so many years ago inside that magician's hat-- that should have been the end-- so so many years ago when you climbed up the play ground slide determined to ascend up yo-yo string-- gnats as stepping stones-- stars as gnats wave planets from your face-- jupiter & saturn all trying to kiss your collar bones you should have disappeared all those years ago-- i unfold myself-- unfold paper crane walls of my room-- paper cut a window in my thumb-- the sun is a star is a sun is star warm pressed up against my asteroid body-- i burn up in the atmosphere 1,000 crane fire this parking meter i pay for sleep by the hour--
