the beach is always my favorite place no matter what

the girls at the beach

all have blankets of hair

the same brown blanket

brushed and flopping

looks hot in both ways

blanketing their same

outfits of shoulderless

puffs and sporty thong

bottoms I stare at their butts

in disbelief forgetting they’re 16

they play volley-ball with a

foreign gusto, shrieky games

of capture and chase

flirt through braces

spitting ice cream, I remember

Though I was never

closer than this

no one envies me with this haircut

no one wishes they looked how I did

I hear the blanket girls think:

I would never cut my hair because, obviously

I am a blanket girl

brushed and flopping

and obviously I am hot

In both ways

I wanna know if they’re saying

the same stuff that they say

at the Jersey shore like shut

the fuck up when a scrawny

boy has you above his head

are you really squeaking fuck you

in your thong in the town center?

are you really

constantly yelling

I also want to say shut the fuck up

and just wait for life

but also

I want to be them all too

to be so taught on display

calling attention to such

smooth, blank skin

no one envies my shorts my

slapdash tomboy beachwear

and I’m free

bleeding because I can’t deal

don’t mind me just walking

up the stones in my wet, red shorts

I’m just planting seeds

filling up and blowing every dollar

to be elsewhere

on the 3^rd day I search for the girl

in the red bathing suit because

she’s the best one and actually

the only I imagine when I imagine

the blanket girls at large this one

has heavy chains around her neck

and also braces so she literally shines

seemingly aware of her figure in space

the tourist teens pale in comparison

as if they have happened upon their

bodies by mistake standing at the edge

of the water like they’re waiting for

something cool to happen to while

they talk but mostly look around

and adjust their suits and I get hit 

in the head with a soccer ball

and decide to leave the beach since

the shadows are long anyway and

the sand blows in stinging swirls

Kesey 4

zagazow




the dream with the amulets
sewn into the gossamer underwear
for sale at the thrift store
plastic cracker jack rings and
colorful charms we were touching
all of the underwear like it was good luck





when we went to his house
Babbs said anytime you're 
thinking about something 
you're angry about or someone 
you're mad at just stop and think 
about the time you were climbing
up that mountain and the stream 
opened up and you were able
to walk into a cave and in the
cave was a fish and the fish 
opened up his mouth and said 
to you COME INTO MY CAVE
can you dig it?




what does it mean to be woken up
by hundreds of birds trying to get
into your bedroom?
fluttering against the eaves of
my corner room with
two walls of windows
the sound was like pebbles or a
wooden xylophone a frenzy
in the gold morning light
one sat on the sill needling
its beak into the screen
what's going on birdies what 
do you want?

Babbs wanted to say something

about happiness but his

younger wife cut him off

embarrassed or maybe just

bored with his speeches

but he started to say something

about how you have to try to

really dig your life

really dig your life and I'm not

talking about with drugs or

alcohol or anything but to 

really be partying everyday

Kesey 3

in this peace place 

sitting on the ornate green couch

by the front windows of the barn

impossible how quiet

how the leaves on the poplars

shimmer wildly but no sound

like a movie

a dip in the Willamette 

as the shadows are getting long

the sun through the trees 

over our right shoulders

the river is so swift

shimmering and quiet too 

I see J look up from his drawing

at the sun’s etchy reflection

everyone knows we are in a movie

in the back of the pickup 

in the dark field to see the stars

tailights make the field red

What would our movie be called?

Stand By Us?

Stand By We?

mood song

so done
at the botanical garden
sitting on every bench
green shadows and
garbage cans
for some reason I see those best
I'm looking for
recycling bins
I'm looking for somewhere
cool and breezy
trying to get what I can
from this visit maybe
oxygen

woman in "good mood" shirt
and Chanel belt buckle --

I wanna go home and
see a friend, wanna
lay in someone's lap
been hallucinating friends
on the street everyone
is almost someone

--good mood
is wrangling her children
in the greenhouse
for photos, almost
pushed her daughter
into the creek now
parked in front
of me at this bench

I have become hateful
trying to rethink the idea
of capacity, more than full
in more ways than one

---

the profound relief of sunset

my new white pants glow
it's all even and airbrushed
the moods, I think
where are the chaperones
everyone playing in the park
with bottles and so I soften
towards the people
towards the city
and onwards

you know what I mean?
when your eyes can be fully wide
and everyone is kind of tan
it's the softest thing
there's even sand
full of cigarettes and ants--

I wish I didn't dread the
familiarity that I also long for
dread the context of
this planet at large but
right now the light because
then what,
nothing

--some leftover gray meat
in sauce, something German,
pizza, anarchy
the moon bright like my pants
smoke and tents and carriages
without babies
big blonde babies and others
in dirty carriages
bright frisbees like the moon
everyone in their groups