yesterday

i'm smiling and

dripping

all over

corny

the clouds are 

losing it

falling back 

onto the mountains 

the shiny bronze tube

matches the palm fronds 

in the shared sentiment

of the sun

chuckling at the hedges like

embarrassing haircuts 

on dogs, 

boys 

but also

solidarity 

we all out here

the rose looking down

the absurdity of this neighborhood 

money like naked 

like I'm marching

with the pitch bend

all the butterflies are out

and I mean it

I hate being told to smile

but the full body curve

that comes on it's own

some other shit

matching the globe

the shiny black stuff 

on the manhole

I smelled Paris 

and I think

edible sex

the seashell soap

you know I've had questions

watering all my people

in gentle news ways 

Layer Cake/Cave

I was painting cakes
in broad dripping strokes
mixing in too much linseed
sharing a lollipop with 3 friends
elbows jostling in the pool
fish washing up on the shore
we had to catch them or starve

positing visions
of Post and Pre
in the covid morning
on the covid street
in the covid rain

near a covid neighbor

wearing covid shoes

covid days and 

covid nights

mom says need cash
wire money please if you 
can Western Union online 
I am pregnant with twins
I have shelter for the night
just me, my car, and my 
surviving parakeet
I can't look/close the door

pre I was ready to let myself grow
now the scariest thing
is that I could stay the same
sitting perfectly still in my bedroom
on the edge of my discipline
while those who played team sports
sprint on in the safe known vehicles
of their summer camp bodies
I might just slip dormant
into the center of time
and fully un-live my tiny life

3 Days That Shook The New World Order

up on Saturn’s rings with
lilting ideas about
    revolution
a lazy Susan
of associations
what do you think
    about looting
cos it’s fun
    to me it's
a revelation
     and poetry's place 
in a complete program
   with filled in blanks





it's a simple matter 
this revolution thing
to really lie to no one
to keep nothing god-like
to write a poem for god

slow

hand washing laundry in the tub
is very Perfume Universe
the water turns brown
afterimages of a life
rise in the steam
melt into the heat and the chemicals
stuck under the running faucet
of my clear cold mind

a thesis

woke up like I know
except for the gaping middle
a lake? dreams raked
to the edges

star by the top of my mouth
bad sharpie letters
out of my system

jazz plays
the onion again
with the house

Perwana on the onion as home
the peeling
matching
the toppling stone

even a perfect circle
is not safe

the shared sentiment
of the sun

soleil/solidarity

juicy

"she smells like a familiar clean laundry blanket with some life"

globe

scent as overlapping ribbons

an onion with a house inside

a body of water
getting stagnant

I can hear my neighbor
not texting me back

our twin hallways

prehistorically
the walking trail

the land before time
sifted back to
the coloring book

it says my bitch
finna get thicc as fuck
with 2 spray paint
ice cubes

&

Z in the clouds again
but this time fading out
like a wave on the shore

5 ventilators

America is a white death cult

ice rinks and
refrigerated trucks
full of bodies

the night more there

last night I was actually
inside the helicopter
soaring haphazardly through green
rolling hills, as if
with a remote control

the beautiful immunity of dreams
Concern, just barely
poking through the clouds

one lousy thought
about distance and
we're having sex
in the bed inside
the restaurant

I'd touched every brass knob
every wooden rail
the dirty pink tile
all the pens on the table

concern for distance
fell off of me like
a
a
a loose towel

the helicopter ride back was more official
with a departure time and
a wobbly blond rocker type

a straight up sex dream
shame fell off like--
or shame was stuffed
into my puffer
it was (is) winter

looking back
on no hard feelings
just the silky ease of that series
the pencil holes in the paper

it was just like vagabond and also an oil painting especially the dark gray rock of the mountain

setting sun on the balcony
wet damp heavy scent of magnolia
Celia on the phone

she can't taste or smell

there's a soft Z in the clouds
as in the end of the alphabet
sitting in a camping chair
drinking beer like I'm at a bbq

birds eye

everyday I walk around  

in an orange sweatshirt

while the helicopter circles

they can see me/I can see

Pasadena Woman Walks

the translucent periodical

on the top stack in my brain 

projected like, another cloud

at first he asked for a photoshoot

a second he asked

are you homeless?

it's only been 

one week

in my dream Milah (hi)

did Jesus Walks while

the cool 

crowd

cooed

and I, drooled

dreaming also of 

shelving

and 

sleeping longer

the weaker dreams 

fizzling fast

* * *

passage from unknown book via Jake...

Standing off to one side. Seeing only the world 

in fragments, there won't be any other one. 

Moments, crumbs, fleeting configurations-- 

no sooner have they come into existence 

than they fall to pieces. Life? There's no 

such thing; I see lines, planes, and bodies, 

and their transformations in time. Time, 

meanwhile seems a simple instrument 

for the measurement of tiny changes,  

a school ruler with a simplified scale-- 

it's just three points: was is, and will be.

choosing unknown over

knowing 

unfair I know

choosing to think about

that school ruler 

for at least

the rest of the day 

choosing to experience life like

up late smoking weed

stretching my body for

3 hours on each side

chewing on sweet things

everything I see is more there

not really closer but

more there

like the raining night sky

a little bright

a kind of no big deal blue

the electric guitar with the spider strap

the garlic's journey to main ingredient 

poetry right now! it's FULL body

all these reckless puzzle pieces 

the part when 

he goes as far from humans as possible

what did that look like to you?

vagabond the movie

an oil painting

one sausage that lasts 

until the name of a town

the way quiet comes back

We Have To

I loved when you described him as
cool and spongey
my brilliant friend








don't forget my thesis
about Grenouille in Perfume
about art



my heart is heavy with
things I want to say
and remember







I'll leave it to you
to fill in the blanks






scales on the backs of my hands
from washing

don't forget the feeling like
stripped of pretense
stripped of the fallacy

don't forget the feeling of
listening to the birds for an hour
of sleeping enough







I'll leave it to you
to fill in the blanks

momenti

really looking at the neighborhood
the way taco bell divides us
the big boulevard
the stars giving light
we saw one skater
named him gavin, after the governer
can you believe gavins are old enough to govern?
nope, the ear pods, the hat, the stars
how I saw him at all
the streaky clouds like
soft claw marks on your body
the ones you give yourself in the shower

all the rich freaks casting shadows
of their urns, aloes, fountains
their looping driveways with lamps
every 6 ft, we measure with
Mary's body flat on the sidewalk

the energy of the trees and plants
is something familiar from Art
something like pride in their essence

I take another sip of wine from
my old can and see one more person
with a smirnoff bottle
anar-chee! says Mary
where were we, new orleans
another story
falling in
clean pieces
on the dark street

something like the usual
too bad
to leave the night behind
but an unusual clinging
from the night itself
a sweetness I can't
see leaving

spring covid

how is it beautiful like this
trees heavy with magnolias
the dome of the church quiet
walk down to the street with
trolly tracks running through it
turn left to cross the bridge

twins

Auntie paints a vivid picture
of Mom on Johnny Dolphin's ranch
holding her stomach
insisting it's twins
fuck the white man's pregnancy tests

her labored shuffle down the dusty desert path
from the geodesic dome to the vegetable garden

these kids inside of me
they're sucking all my energy
as she weeds around the plants
like a manic esthetician

I wonder if it's two sons
to replace her dubious daughters
or a feeling of creation
something just around the corner

I want her to name them
Quarantine
and
Liberty

I Am The 99 Presidents / lost my occupation didn't have no destination anyway

we were pretending
and now we sit in our separate windows
affirmed in our joblessness

almost like we knew this was coming
never at home in our work
only ourselves at home

rejoice or despair
waiting for shit to get real
are there more sirens than usual?

identity as an abstraction
you can't hang a hat on
tenuous at best

thinking about powers to the people
and how this era is traceable
the timeline so obvious

in crisis world each day is a decade

at first
but it will speed up

past life problems

if right now is a mountain
and also a hole
the sun helps
some color theory

the layers of light since
the winters of teendom
always snagged there
on her fresh, pissed face

surprised by my lack of capacity
to mold, stretch, find the richness
here beside the window

there was a time when I was interested in packaging
and now I wanna vomit up everything I've ever seen

drinking
splitting open
the sweet, over ripe truth that
my mind was once a blank piece of paper
and now

still finding the soft B sides
my door shut

the marble desk
my grandma
ambient
tethers

now I'm relatively old by the window
a vacant strip of dirt
the leaky hose
(of desire)
sputtering, scrolling
devoted to the buzz

recalling the sorrow that takes over
on xmas, for instance
the long and early
digestif of a shut down

there was a time when all I ever wanted
was to be here

global pandemic / general strike

unemployment medicaid
taxes online tutoring
phone bank mutual aid
delivery runs
radical reading list

revolution-ready
strength training workout plan

and today 5

so we need leaders
we need to
unite the noise
coalesce the drops
in the bucket

it's still raining
the arabic church music rolls out of her room
im eating it with my soup
drawing an orange

should we
elect leaders amongst our most famous friends
we need to unite the noise
but to release the grind! to really
let it slide out

the other day when the sky cracked and
it was washed blue

now I'm watching my pulse
at an arm's length
I haven't seen it for years

the sky broke
a helicopter emerged

look out

...we have a crisis here
that is pretty profound really
and it looks as though they are going to 
bulwark the border
and even pull it up 
closer to where I am
people are circling
it's looking like Standing Rock
but mega huge and 
here in New Mexico
whatever fears or suspicions 
may have been floating up
between the two of us
are neither here nor there
because there are 
as it were
bigger fish to fry...

gentle tuesdsay bs

                                       I just want

                       *

                    *

               ***

                          *** *** *** **** *** *****

took an evening walk around the block

breathed dramatically and didn’t blink

for the birds, for the rent signs

I want a cookie, a date, a big full cup

she’s putting on makeup in the bathroom

while my tights snag on the table

I’m touching on suicidal/becoming

a 16 year old boy rolling joints

jreeming of the pool and the lean 

where’s my fucking hoodie
I just want to be what I like--

a bad boy, a moment 

with the bamboo high 

with the raindrops, what even 

night is it like I’m what, young?

the night is wet and

it's hold has devolved

               

passiflora incarnata

sometimes I can carry it all
like a glass of wine
an intricate flower
the pair dice on my desk
translucent plastic with another
set of tiny dice inside
solid/fractal/see-thru
I can hold it
my life
and imagine a new toss

shatter
              scatter
glass
           petals

pair of dice     
paradise

drunk poet

a type of toy car waffling

b/w depressing solidity and

honestly— Dissolving Boundaries

I miss her!

magical in my bedroom

when the clutter is 

robust/defined 

when shit takes on

guilt until    riddled

where to put the voice

when I'm drinking 

if it were a game

if I were a spy 

I'd be in AA looking 

straight down my own cam

we're of out of body in

street clothes on the bed

Inside

she says publish these

throws the loose leafs at me

dedicated to her parents and

written from their perspectives

I'm done, Outside 

by Shower Time

which sways, the glimpse

of the boys 

he saw my shoes

don't touch my face

driving towards luna

fully chewing 

on quarantine

screwed

night        time 

               nausea     carries               in the stroller

the looseness of the      cup                                    the light rain

we cared                          with breaks

                           the damp medians

of old summers                                  

cut 

bamboo 

my room                         brighter

                                                 daylight 

                                                              on the floor

his stems

and his music 

Chill 1

everyone leaving/a melting
popsicle, it's just nice
to touch you/to say it
two candles going
away with this wave
the smoke alarm
the oil, the eggs
her orange hair
our curtains open
to the unexpected rain
my day was something like
ruined/flooded
my jaw on the wet floor
when everyone I know
is losing it-- a sort of
currency, the ball we throw around
the wishbone in my soup

getting off to something feasible
and I'm on the curved road in Shasta
or turning left at the triangle near the school
that old summer feeling of walking
through the screen door
of being ignored

he said, is glimmering just shimmering
and glittering?
the salmon quartz we found
coloring at the dining room table
with the shavings and the candles
he said he was looking for candles
and then showed us a wild example
swallowing the sweet idea with a chill

Us

why be me in Oaxaca
and not you over there?
I am us
us us us
I don’t sleep well
the waves crash in our room
ready to swallow
administrative dreams
up with the sun

Augustinillo

fools’ feast of fact or fiction
the beach town where dogs smile
trusted and free
we walk and walk
they do too
with their own social lives
and business about the town

Frederici’s points about
Cartesian mind/body split
soul as the supreme ruler
disciplining the naughty corporeal form
as I lounge with the book
he calls me a sand-witch

the umbrella on the balcony
worn translucent and shiny
like a deteriorating butterfly wing
grandmas sitting in the garden
with eyes glazed over

limits and hidden agendas
of “rational thought”
limits of science
however elegant
we need superstition because
there is no real reason we exist

a night beach is a good way to feel
really being in outer space
moon reflecting off the place licked smooth
by waves ready to swallow

in 2018 on the Oregon coast
I was convinced the big one could hit
and there was only one route out
through a tunnel in the rocky mountainside
just looking up at it gives you vertigo

there was bioluminescence in the sand
when you drag your toe a trail of green fairy dust
Kate showed us how to pry mussels off the rocks
the way her grandpa taught her

we started a fire on the beach and roasted them
sandy orange salty
up all night with the rocks covered in aliens
a good way to die