Thursday, September 17, 2020

ʎpɐǝʇs ʞɔoɹ



today the kids made tissue swords 
exerting themselves in the ash
the 3 of them, literary
windswept
the dust bowl
the cul de sac

the boudarylessness of
blessings, curses
talking fences/feeling
nothing       moderate, mega 
in lieu of     stretch in lieu of
cutting
the train assembles
poems slipping and 
sliding the dead friend
with the past tense name

just wanna be at the club
with the currentevent 
mix, the mosh pit 
where at 3 am 
dystopia 
checks 
out



Saturday, September 12, 2020

skywriting by jane pauley


















I cry looking at photos of great grandma Sally
because she's got the eyes
the eyes that are 3000 years old

















sitting on the deck with Dad
swarm of crows flying in synch 
vanishes into the fog

















Grandma tells me about a time 
Mom painted herself green, put tinfoil 
on her head, and went to the bar

















open field with a window
open field with a window
open field with no child

















don't call it an episode 
I'm not your TV

















my heart isn't actually inside me
it's where they all are

















Wednesday, September 9, 2020

Oz / Zoom

Will says he's like a dog

cos he gets along with everyone in the park

and we both say god made dirt and dirt don't hurt


I roll down the slope into the center of the dog bowl

then jump up and run a full lap around it shrieking 

we scream along to Boys are Back in Town


Will conducts us on air instruments

Leo plays bass and sings low

we all try on all 3 pairs of sunglasses for 3 different views of the sunset

I get down on one knee and chug a bottle of water

then demonstrate how to carry 15 things at once

using my feet to pick everything up


Will's in pain and we need to get him home

we take his arms and are off to see the wizard

stopping and starting down the brick path 


Will begs me to put my shoes on

I say if he insists he has to help like Cinderella 

and first can he hold them so I can jump in the hedge


we move three steps forward two steps back all the way to the apt

I turn Will's hat inside out and shape it tri-point like a sailor

he tucks his socks into it like puppy dog ears


***


there are rumors about me now

about the mess and the homeless man


to them I’m still the cat locked in the box

doing god knows what


but the whole joke

is that it's only as bad as you think it is

Saturday, September 5, 2020

ambrette pipette

cool blue + tie dye = soft sky
looking up from the open box of Kayla's backyard
I see power lines and think sheet music
base + heart + head = the symphony of a perfume
the white planks of that balcony's railing are piano keys
dancing + apples = dappled
the bamboo is the wind section
the sun is soprano
soft sky + full = skull
the clean flat cement might be mezzo
and the wind chime is implied

Thursday, September 3, 2020

alphabet soup

the night I sat on the balcony 

watching the moon cross the sky


Jamie’s ghost touched everything in the apartment

turned my pairs of shoes at perpendicular angles


propped up the sheep brain dissection kit

scooted out my desk chair


it was so subtle

I could have done it myself


what's the difference between 

hallucination and metaphor


seeing the story over the story

the world behind the world


I don't want to say too much

but something I can tell you now;


it's a lie 

that nothing rhymes with orange


the buddha quality

of a stuffed animal


how two dots and a line 

make a gracious face


I was sure he was in my bathroom

staring at that tum on the tile floor


and I realized how trauma 

is like schrodinger's cat


the keloided narratives that stay fucked up

for as long as the door is closed


I keep seeing a soft sky full of tiny letters 

like alphabet soup


and the afterimage of a cool blue fairy

pepper's ghost


and there's something extra 

we're elaborating on now


about washer women

gossips and yentas


about twins, togetherness

about the tree and the stone

Tuesday, September 1, 2020

new day new age

next part 
best part
feeling it all out 
so swisher sweet 
a candy chain like
cool blue gatorade
again again
all of my twins
the things I saw
I’ll tell you soon
the sound in
Mario - Let Me
Love You 
howling 
at the moon
let me be the 
1, 2
I can’t write poems
I’m having 
too much fun 
doing math
doing the dishes
loving emojis

being damned


the dry lightning storm 
to the north

the moon drama, up

the cold sand, cum
every August
at once

*

AIM apparition--

if it were,
the watering hole

The Wednesday

raised by 
ON, the TV
the basement 

*

rolling on the floor
after hours
for reasons 
the sidewalk
the gum spots
the moon

*

partial to the merch
of my coast
perennials 
garbage 

*

eating around the spinal chords

boundaries embodied 
or
synthetic fences