giants i cracked the window backseat of the blue station wagon-- our car was always climbing another highway-- another rush of wind through my shoulder-length brown hair-- i used to watch the landscape unfurl like a pop-up book before me-- page turn page turn page turn-- a film reel spinning-- projected around me in this great IMAX theater a pinwheel-- shimmering in the vibrations of the world out a car window-- & on the mountain ridges i would see the towers where all the powerlines meet & i would think that they looked like giants-- immense beasts of steal-- their skeletal frames letting the air rush through them-- they danced-- jump ropes in hand-- great oaks & evergreens brushing their knees like tall tall grass i used to run in when i was too little to be scared of ticks-- i imagined them at night when there's no more need for power- lines that maybe these giants rushed off over the crest of the peaks-- hand in hand-- singing songs only giants know in a voice made of metal & bird throat-- there they would tell stories of all that they had seen that day-- a nest of chickadees-- a hiker's hat blow off & drop into the creek-- a bike-rider with a green back pack eating a banana on a tree stump-- a little girl gazing out the window of a blue station wagon-- they would light a bond fire-- pluck the stars from the sky like ripe raspberries-- scoop marshmallows from the moon & roast them golden brown over the fire-- their shadows in the light of the flames would take on a mind of their own-- skeletons frolicking across the shrugged shoulders of the ridge-- in the blush of morning the shadows would fade-- as all ghosts do-- back under the bellies of the stones in the creek-- the sun came with a thud-- a peach too heavy for the branch & begrudgingly the giants would slink back to their posts-- wires in hand-- watching a blue station wagon pass by
10/11
we keep our closets i save mine in a locket around my neck-- keep the keys beneath my tongue-- this is the place where my body echos like the whisper of all the earth's water in the corridor of a conch shell placed to the ear of an eleven year old girl who was also me-- i open the door to fall into the ocean-- splash & float on my back-- here is where i grab handfuls of laughter-- stuff my pockets with sun-- the four walls of this closet reverberate with refractions of mornings-- of my own voice-- the sky pulls a rainbow through her belt loops-- oh & then my closet grows lush when i was little & i sat in the bathtub with the shower head running i would pretend i was naked in the rain forest the ceiba trees & cathedral figs wrappings their roots around my thighs-- i feel each droplet gambol over my chest-- my legs-- drip from my branches-- the biggest apples grow on the lowest branches so i can reach-- i eat every single one of them & the door knob teases me & calls me EVE i've captured clouds to remember how to weep with every part of myself until i drop my small leaves like the willow on the hill with the gravel path behind my parent's house-- a dog barks in the distance-- i see a dress in goodwill & i know a girl who would have worn it-- she is brave & she keeps a locket around her neck-- i live in the closet doors of her body-- her mouth-- the hinges of her fingernails-- i am so in love with her-- with her eyes that hold rubber trees-- her feet dusted with sand-- she threads the rainbow through her belt loops-- i put the dress on a hanger-- float in the ocean behind this door it is mine it is mine it is mine
10/10
hubble last night in my body i wanted to feel smaller-- i felt the edges of my skin expanding-- my freckles drifting into the night sky-- i clung onto each & asked them to resist becoming stars last night in my body i borrowed the eyes of the hubble space telescope & i thought about all the awe she has known & how she feels about the body she captures images of-- NGC6753 the second known spiral galaxy whirling like a shiny pinwheel out the window of my father's jeep as we drove through the corn fields-- the center-- the corona they say it will tell them something about how galaxies form even though the light she captures is thousands & thousands of light years away i wonder what it's like for her to listen to these memories of light-- the pirouette of celestial bodies some dead some dying some remembering themselves-- when she watches a star burst does she sing happy birthday? does she want to hold the little burst of life hold to her chest? i think if i were the hubble space telescope i would want to avert my eyes-- i would want to leave the infant stars & galaxies to bask in the infinite heat of their births but instead she grabs picture after picture for the men on earth-- drops them like postcards-- she tells the men to be gentle with the images-- that these are bodies are so much like their own i wonder how many spiral galaxies i contain tongiht or what it would be like to be able to twirl like one oh NGC6753-- i will only ever know you though this stream of photographs-- your corona a blaze-- your dress burning with stars-- & the hubble space telescope up there tonight she will want to feel smaller-- she will think of all the nebulas-- the sun spots-- the gaseous fascade of jupiter-- & she will wish more than anything to feel her feet touch earth-- soil or rock beneath her to hold her-- her body out of orbits-- here in my room i am held by carpet-- i share her eyes a star is born four thousand light years ago
10/09
i saw saint mary in starbucks i saw saint mary in starbucks-- she was leaned over the counter-- perched on a wooden stool legs crossed beneath her blue robe-- she looked up out the big front windows it was a cloudy october afternoon full of computer screen glow-- at the table next to her a woman in a bright red dress was interviewing to do marketing for a start-up & on her other side was of course-- me scrolling on my phone & pretending not to notice the virgin mary sitting next to me-- she sipped her pumpkin spice latte-- stuck her finger in the whipped topping & licked off the fluffy cream & drizzled caramel syrup-- resting her head in her hand, she scrolled through her phone-- our saints have recently gone digital after some encouragement from the higher ups jesus said it would be good for them to get more in touch with the people again-- she now receives prayers by text message vibrate vibrate vibrate their words blurring across her screen she openned each prayer one by one by one & the phone just kept vibrating she set it down on the counter & it continued to vibrate vibrate vibrate i took out a pen from my backpack & scribbled on the back of a brown paper napkin "Hail Mary full of grace..." i slide it to her shyly-- she peered up at me without a word & smiled like the statue we have of her sitting in the Nativity-- picking up the note she grinned wider & mouthed "Thank you" she picked her phone off the counter & opened tinder to amuse herself between answering prayers over the rim of my coffee i eyed her swiping right on some girls from Bryn Mawr college-- hair long & wearing instagram filters-- i opened my own tinder to see if i could find her profile & there she was-- saint Mary-- the same image as on the prayer card in my wallet on the way home i wondered if she had remembered me or anything i had prayed for or if she just got to know human in brief snippets of their pleas-- their wants-- their desires-- i wondered if sometimes she would just like to hear a message-- a simple hello & a smiley-face emoji of some sort so that she knows that we don't just want her for the influence of her son-- i pulled over on the side of the road opened my own phone & texted my mom to tell her that i love her because i don't tell anyone that enough-- i sip the last of my black coffee & i pray to saint Mary & tell her that i'm sorry that her phone is full of so many prayers & that i'm sorry they never stop coming even when half the world sleeps-- my phone vibrated & an unknown number had sent me a little star emoji i sent her back "Hail Mary full of grace..."
10/08
open the neon lights in my veins sing "open"-- linger in me like a doorway-- like a round coffee shop table-- i want you to rest your glass of water on my forehead without a coaster-- leave a water ring halo-- i'll be your neon light saint-- cross your legs beneath me like your mother taught you when you first haphazardly wore a dress & felt a gust of wind ring your knees like church bells-- it's early in the night & we've yet to sink-- let's push this bed off the dock-- swim under the covers where we'll be safe grow barnacles on our thighs-- let's be quiet like sea urchins & no one will find us or wake us from this kind of sleep-- this kind of drowning in each other's bodies-- there is so much of us-- descend the the sand-bottom where i keep my sunken ships-- the salt water of my blood eating away at the wood-- my oceans have sharks & smug grinning eels-- my oceans have pillows floating above like clouds-- what do you think of my body? is it something you'd like to drop into-- throw the anchor off the side of the bed let's stay here-- tell the sun to be patient with us-- my body is the supermarket that stays open through the night-- i lay ajar for all the shopping cart wheel spirits at four a.m. who buy pumpkins to carve themselves into-- i have become my own night light-- neon glowing through all my veins-- tossing shadows across my white ceiling-- the water on the floor of my bed room is cold-- it's autumn now & the ocean crosses her legs-- she pulls on stockings & ties up her hair in a messy bun-- when you need me i'll be waiting across the street in the window of the little pizza shop i'll be neon-- i'll be open
10/07
i lost the sun down the drain this faucet-running morning i dropped the sun down the drain-- a beacon of light protruded from the sink & i reached my hands inside desperately to grab at it-- i felt warmth & the tips of my fingers brushed her fuzzy surface-- for those of you who didn't know the sun feels a lot like an over-ripe peach i thought to myself oh what oh what will everyone think of me when i tell them i lost the sun-- all the while the song-birds outside my window gossiped about the stupid-girl who thought she could hold a star without trembling-- i say but i'm a boy- & they laugh & laugh & i ask them if any of them has a voice to trade-- that i would be willing to barter with the sun once i dislodged it they whispered me down the alley-- up the street through everyone's feathers-- through the piles of leaves collecting in the gutters they swallowed their voices whole & told me no--no-- no bird songs here-- little girl keep your voice in your mouth where it belongs-- i closed the blinds which didn't do much seeing as the sun wasn't in the sky but at least the window muffled the chatter of birds i turned on the flashlight of my iPhone & flashed it in the face of the star in my sink i took a deep breath & got on all fours-- it's amazing the spaces you can fit in when you believe in the smallness of your body-- i crawled in & around me the drain expanded-- the walls-- the aqueducts-- great stone arches encircling me as i learned how to fall the sun caught me-- her arms open her body soft & blushing-- i told her but i'm a boy & she laughed & fed me handfuls of light & cooed i know i know i know
10/06
where do phones go when they die? what kind of god makes a body measured in percentages of breath-- i know that you will wake up again but i would feel better to know where you go-- we pretend are iPhones aren't are most intimate lovers-- inside my pocket i grip her body in my right hand-- cold body-- smooth body-- gentle body-- mirror mirror lover what do you see me in today? your eyes filter me-- fill me claredon lark--slumber--valencia ink well-- moon-- how many colors do you see in me-- oh & if i could only see them in myself-- i guess it's the impermanence of your small deaths that makes me contemplate my own-- you wake up again-- you remember me-- even if only faintly maybe in the darkness behind your screen you listened to me voice echoing through a night free of stars-- maybe you hear me say i love i love you into your receiver-- you feel your body become one of those phones with the long curly chords i twirl my finger around you & you pretend that you are the lover on the other line-- you tell me to lay on my back with you & we both look up at an empty sky-- maybe you wonder if you'll ever wake up-- if this sleep will be eternal-- & maybe you would hang my photographs up around your body-- every where you would turn would be my voice-- an echo echo echo of my hand around your body & just like that you taste air-- taste electricity spicy like red hot sauce dripped onto your tongue-- you blink you blink hello again
10/05
Apatosaurus body i sympathize with the Apatosaurus-- our bodies are so much to keep track of-- 70ft long & so many ferns to eat to stay alive-- my mouth hurts from chewing-- i don't know how i fit in my bedroom with my ribs so cavernous-- i pull the blinds shut on my windows so no one can see me fossilize-- i stand by the air conditioner in my purple boxers-- shirt off-- i feel my body grow into a jungle & then there i am-- i'm standing & all anyone can see are my bones & my father pints to my skull & tells me that the Apatosaurus was a gigantic herbivore-- that his steps were made of thunder & the people at the museum don't think to ask why the Apatosaurus is wearing purple boxers-- they nod & don't read the little plaque beneath me that reads his body was so much in my room i turn around & knock a pile of books off my desk with my long tail-- i keep the blinds shut to have a break from the museum goers pointing at my bones-- i'm taking them off femur by rib by pelvis-- reburying them in the backyard for someone to discover the skeleton of the mighty Apatosaurus whose body was too big to fit in his bedroom-- break windows with your foot steps-- stand naked & heavy with bones-- here take my rib-- plant a tree with it-- if you're patient & you wait it might just grow into an orchid-- quiet & tired of being so so much
10/04
What does god do with all the green in October? in his orange sweater & red canvas shoes God walks down main street -- the body of a little boy-- his skin is cold-- it's october-- the kind of cold that's lonely but still empty of winter-- he fills his jean pockets with green-- tree by tree by tree-- pulling the green off the leaves by the handful-- he tells the oak to hush as she weeps for virescence of her children-- she watches them rust-- bleed reds & drop brown on the sidewalk he runs his hand over her trunk & tells her that all our children must someday jump & fall on the pavement-- the wind moans & rips leaf after leaf from her hands-- he tells the earth to be quiet-- to be still-- to listen to a night without emeralds he says there is a certain beauty to dying in so many different colors & she doesn't believe him-- he keeps walks-- all full of green & he walks past the shop fronts where each building has spent decades falling in love with each other-- only to speak to each other in the murmur of porch lights & in the shadows of Gods who stroll this time in october-- he's headed down to stream-- dark-- face covered by the torsos of the white ash & red oaks-- their knees genuflecting in the shallow water-- there he empties himself of green-- green laughing & crying in the gossip of the water-- green full of mouths & kissing & sweat on our bodies-- green that remembered us knew us-- believed in us-- oh green unclasping hands-- green letting go-- floating belly up to another year-- God lit a cigarette-- the spark of his lighter bright against the black water-- he breathed a storm cloud from his lips & the store fronts looked at each other wide-eyed & in love it's october
10/03
orchard i filled my pockets with peach pits-- pushed them into the warm asphalt with my thumb-- yes this is time square this is where i will start build an orchard & you will tell me there's nothing to be done with all this light-- that the city eats peaches all through the night & i'll laugh & tell you that it eats apples-- only the really red kind-- horn will honk early the next morning when the first of the trees takes hold in the middle of the cross walk & tourists will take pictures & think that it's an installation art project-- a cabby will lean out the window to curse the thin trunk of the first brave peach tree-- she will grow wild from the blaring of the lights-- she will learn to swallow neon sun-- her fruit will grow rounder than the moon & the people will gather beneath her to stop-- to stop & her roots will begin to crack the sidewalk & a young boy with a blue backpack will be the first to eat one of her fruit-- each peach the color of the sunset wrapped around the statue of liberty's waist-- he tastes dusk-- sweet, musty, & slightly bitter he knows what to do with the seed-- pressed into the street-- the orchard began as a phenomenon of eating-- of hunger for fruit-- the people left their cars in the streets to watch the peach trees grow-- two burst through the McDonalds bright golden arches-- another smashed the windows of the M&M factory & all the while the people began to notice that the peach trees were consuming all the was left of the sound of the city at night-- fruit swelled with the blare of a bent bent trumpet wailing from the subway underground where the peach tree roots entangled around the lexington ave express-- EXPECT DELAYS the voice over the loud speaker repeat & repeats & repeats i'll walk out from my hotel & fill my backpack with peaches-- if any are bruised i'll just eat them right then-- sitting on a bench with a city full of people taking in the orchard we all planted i'll tell them i'm taking it with me when i go & even the cab drivers will beg me to let them stay-- when the world is dark-- & i mean all the way dark-- & the city finally sleeps after 100 years of light i will walk out again-- push the trees back into the street-- put the peach pits back into my pocket-- take the next bus from port authority back to kutztown & the city will wake up with the taste of dusk in her mouth--
