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

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

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--

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--

scarecrow

you forget
your name--
you watch it
dismembered--
letter by letter--

it's carcass in
the beaks of
the crows--
it's memory--
a phantom-- weight
of moon light
on your tongue--

walk to
the corner of
the field--

you carry your father's
clothing-- plaid shirt--
jeans-- straw hat--
match-stick head
sun drop--
burn holes in your
forearms--

corn stalk hush--
back porch light
all-embracing this
body-- they
call you 
kindling-- a pile
of wasp bones--
handful after
handful of 
hay down 
your throat--
you eat to forget your
skin--

morning dew soaks
you-- 
saturated face--
you hold frost
in your shoulders--
your kind of fear
surfaces in your
eyes-- stitch over
stitch--

you own a body of 
apprehension--
of isolation
of wordless mouth
of calling beaks--

you dream of beaks--
they snap
your father's cloths 
from your body--

you dream 
match stick sun--
gentle ignition 
of flesh--

you burn-- corn husk
daughter--
Indian corn tooth 
brother--
smile black feather

swallow spoonful of
night--

this night is early
& thick
this night is
a thunderstorm
of black feather
& bird feet 
in mud--

follow foot steps
to the back porch--

smolder & blaze--
you crucifix-spine
man-- 

what have
you done
to watch 
over us today?

have you said
your Our Fathers?
Have you said your
Hail Marys?

Do you know 
each fox by name?
Each hare?

You come down
from your stake 
air thick--
cold feather night--

your spine
of foot prints
& echoing
bird call-- a 
scream repeating
beneath your
father's clothes

you press finger
to mud--
you etch lines
in the dirt 
that never
form a word--

you claw & rake--
desperate
so desperate 
for your name 

this is a poem
for teenagers who kiss in graveyards

this is a poem for
dry leaves-- for
steam off my flat iron--
for my chipped 
black finger nails-- 
this is a poem
full of elegies 
i wrote to myself--
for nights i used my
windowsill 
as a mother--
for night i jumped 
& splashed next mars--
this is for teenagers
who kiss in graveyards--
for a dead bent 
maple tree
on cemetery hill
in Kutztown-- it's boney
fingers fishing 
for our bodies--
catching us like
a grandmother--
watching us
while
we wrapped ourselves
in grass stains &
hyperbole--
wrote
our names on
the back of our hands
as approximations
for tombstones--
a poem for
snake coil 
ear bubs with one
speaker blow out
from too much Green Day
this is a poem for
feeling small in
the mouth of another 
person--
for reading
graveyard names
like your own--
for taking a spoon
to dig yourself
a bed-- 
dirt cold under 
finger nails--
this is a poem
for zombies &
for trying to 
fall in love with
vampires &
for mud caked
on Chuck Taylors 
& for laying
under moon shadow--
the skeleton tree--
the red moon
full of all the blood
we've managed to
rain from our bodies--
this is a poem for
bathroom mirrors
& the people
who
look into them--
for re-applying
black nail polish--
for leaning
up against a car door--
one ear bud in--
making
fog on the window
with your breath
& tracing a heart--
your heart--
your heart as phantom
& fleeting 
as its outline
in the window--
this is a poem
for you

we are this perhaps--
we are used to
express uncertainty 
or possibility--

loving you
is like catching
the street lamps
all turn on at once--
a silent resounding
of light--
this perhaps of us--
is comet tail evening--
is canvas shoes by
the door 
is a kiss
left on my neck--
is a sunset full of
moths--

it's like
i could  
never driving home
alone-- 
your voice
headlights & 
rear-view mirrors
let's be a 
stop sign--

i'm thinking about when 
i'll get to hear
your smile next--

when oh when 
will you hold me 
like a pocket watch 
like a silver dollar--

the moon is 
a hammock
now--

we are this perhaps--
this maybe

oh sleep with me
like a rolled up
receipt
you find in
a back pocket--

oh open me--
i'm an old yellow-page
book with no words--
let's read each
other's call numbers
in the glow of 
Christmas lights strung
above my bed-- 

oh perhaps 
perhaps i met a
boy 
& i knew
that i loved him
so easily i mistook 
him for the faint
blaze of 
street lamps--

i have never
loved someone
like i
love you

what does the tooth fairy do with all our teeth?

i have heard rumors
she builds a castle--
sack of teeth--
brick & mortar--
wall on wall on  
wall-- she never gets
any sleep-- she is
always listening--
that muffled
careful sound of
tooth slid
beneath pillow--
tiny snap of
tendon & vein--
like feet walking
through forest brush--
twig-snap--
another tooth
falls without making
a sound--
she often
lingers there--
by a child's bedside
in the hopes they will
wake up  
& see her--
she knows she's supposed
to be secretive
but it's so lonely
building a castle
all for herself--
bag after bag of
teeth stacked row
on row--
she touches a child's
forehead
with the back of her
hand
she says 
come with me
& we'll be faeries 
together--
she doesn't mean it of
course-- 
she's just pretending--

when i was seven &
a half
i prayed 
to the tooth fairy
& i still wonder if
she heard me --
i woke in the middle
of the night-- mouth 
metallic blood-tasting--
i poked around with 
my tongue to find 
my wiggly tooth gone--
i looked under my pillow--
in my bed sheets--
on the speckled carpet
with no luck--
i sat up-- covers pulled
to my neck crying
for this lost tooth--
i ran my hand side to
side & said a tiny
prayer to  her--
i didn't ask for
the tooth fairy money
or even for my tooth
back-- i asked for her--
i asked if maybe i
could just see her so
that i could know she 
was real--
i imagined her walking
along my dresser-- 
swinging from a coat-hanger 
& landing on my pillow--
i smiled at this notion--
& there she was looking
over me-- a 
backpack full of teeth 
slung over one shoulder--
she sat there in the windowsill
feeling the cool 
january wind nip at
her wings-- she sighs
as she hears another
tooth 
slide under a pillow
she looks
my molar she swiped
while i was busy
mourning 
the emptiness 
in my mouth-- 
she observes the
tooth in
blueish moon-light--
rubs her thumb
over parchment-colored
smooth surface--
she ponders briefly what kind
of food i ate --
grilled cheese at 
Basin Street Tavern--
chicken fingers & 
banana bread & steel 
bowls full of rinsed 
blueberries-- 
she drops the tooth
in with the others--
she waits for me
to fall asleep before
sauntering 
out of my bed room--
she brushes 
a tear off my cheek 
& kisses my forehead
she promises me
i'm real i'm real
i'm real 
& in the morning
there is no 
quarters & there
is still a hole
in  my mouth & 

far away in some
place neither heaven
or earth
she kneels down--
picks my tooth
out of her bag &
set it in line-- 
another wall
of her 
great empty 
castle-- 
she feels as 
if the whole
structure is chewing
her-- gulping down
her thin body--
she is 
a bowl of
blueberries--
she sleeps on
a warm flat
tongue--

*CW* Suicide

This poet has teeth
of love & arsenic
of ball point pens 
driven into thighs--
this poet has teeth--
this poet's body
is a elegy on repeat--
this poet owns a tombstone--
uses it as a book mark--
this poet's body
is the final resting
place of an apology--
this poet breaks plates
on the kitchen floor--
this poet's body 
has never been
a weapon-- this poet 
says i'm sorry 
to a hand that 
pulled his hair--
this poet learned
to bleach out 
memories till they
turn shiny & gold--
this poet has a
planted seeds in the
tilled rows
of my wrists
this poet is a birthday 
candle--
a mouth full of
dirt road--
take me here-- take 
me handful of sand--
take me suicide
google search--
do you know how
easy it is to 
unscrew a lightbulb?
did you hear me
say I'm the poet with
teeth-- crooked &
un-apologetic--
I'm the kind of broken
bottle you can step on--
step on me
if that's what you want
but my edges don't cut--
i reserve that for
myself-- my edges
slice watermelons
into moons-- chop
river rocks into 
a song--
oh but 
remember I'm the poet
with teeth--
of love & arsenic--
they say mixing bleach
& ammonia seems easy--
a quiet kind no more--
I tattooed a tombstone
on my arm so you
know what I'm carrying
with me--
I'm the poet with 
teeth made out of tombstones--
this isn't a goodbye
this is a forever--
this is a 
elegy on repeat on repeat
on repeat 
this body is a poet
this poet has teeth
bite into me
i bleed 

on watching a street lamp go out

last night 
as i was
driving 
a street lamp 
went out above me
i thought to myself

what does that mean?
what on 
earth could that
mean?
that kind of thing
doesn't just happen-- 

it reminded me
of 3rd grade when
my teacher told
us that some
of the stars we look
at are already dead--
their light a final
kiss
across the galaxy--

light-beam
crawling on
hands & kness
down telescope barrel--
playground
slide-- 
speck of
glow & laughter--

i want to die 
jovially like
the stars

like
polaris or anteres--
alpha andromadee &
the sisters mizar &
alcor--
who will all
someday 
go out mostly 
unnoticed--

their thumb prints
of light
radiating 
lonely goodbye--

how human it is
to name a dying
flash of brilliance
kissing us gently--
jostling
past 
asteroids & asterisks
to land so quietly
in our street lamps--

when i saw the street
lamp go 
out i knew that it
was once a star--
that it once journeyed--
backpack dangling
by one strap--
hitch hiking somewhere
along the back of ursa
major--

i thought to myself
that's how it will
all end-- won't it?
with the same unassuming
quiet death  
of the stars--
the earth will
sneak away from us--

a kiss down
the barrel of
a telescope 
the quiet blink
of a straw lamp
relinquishing its 
final fleck of
light