Sunday, November 30, 2014

Emo Virgin

The clouds are perfect frosting with no holes
Our Final Descent into the sunrise
pink and blue behind the wing
with a warped decal of the U.S. flag at the end
like a lost handkerchief
I can't cry but the baby blanket sky is enough how I feel
The quiet rounded window rectangle
It's dark winter down below the frosting
Like a Heaven/Hell diorama
How to stay soft and clear?
What can I frost? Baby blanket
Thinking of things I've lost
things I've gained
How greedy
How historically
Growth is so tied to love
And love is so tied to sadness
This soft pink and blue
Which is both fresh and ancient to me

Friday, November 14, 2014


There are snow flakes in the rain
Tiny soft rain and flakes
Illuminating them with
my iPhone flashlight
Like night vision
Sparkle in my condensation clouds
Zenme zheme leng
Little flakes of snow
I want to drink ice water
Trying to wring somethingOut of my hands
There is a feeling i don't have time for
Fear lapping my ankles
Licking my neck
Wants me to pick it up
A dog or baby
Walking quickly to catch the train with nothing in my stomach
Am I bad? Did I forget something?

Thursday, November 13, 2014

Fancy Chain

I'm patching a hole in one of the window 
screens in my white camp cabin. Thinking 
about how frightening it will be to sleep in it 
tonight. With things so easily able to come in 
and out. The type of screen door that is light 
and brittle with rusted hinges and no lock,
bouncing in the door frame a few times with 
each gust of wind. I'm wearing mostly white 
linen and this is my personal cabin. A narrow 
wooden rectangle layered in white lead paint.

   When I finish the patch I walk to a meeting 

at the administrative building where we meet 
two distinguished guests. They offer us a ride
in their helicopter. I decline because it seems 
dangerous. K and I instead begin walking back 
to camp on the straight main road through the 
clean town. The helicopter is flying slowly
along the road above us. Too low and too slow 
just ahead. A single black boxing glove hangs
from the helicopter at the end of a silver chain 
very low to the ground. 

   We pass clean churches and cafes with a 

fake color and clarity. Violet and red stained 
glass. Clean plastic chapels like Vegas or Utah. 
We know the helicopter is going to crash so 
we go into a restaurant.