Monday, March 26, 2018


The vines of the wax flower plant reach out to touch me
Marking the time that I’m losing track of
Waxwoman we call her 
There’s not enough light in here
The rubber plant has faded to yellow but keeps on 
The fern drops brown leaves like tear drops
I look for pictures of the rubber plant 
To see if it’s grown
Or is it stunted

Hope wore all dusty purple today
Sweatshirt with a rhinestone heart 
She grabbed both of my wrists and made me clap
Pointed at the coffee maker 
Made me clap again
I poured some of my coffee 
From paper cup to another paper cup for her
She took it in her one hand 
with the other folded safely away
I hope she feels my love

drunk etc.

I got some art opportunities
in the middle of the night

someone berated me
for not being able to speak
my own, full name

I blamed their shitty pen


if the world was left with
everything beautiful

and only built up with
more beautiful

architecture, getting involved

I'll draw the fragments alone

doomed, not cut out
for more

Tuesday, March 20, 2018


woke up singing, oh
the ants come marching in
I find a group of them again
swarming a tampon that is
somehow one with the floor
and therefore impossible
to address, or separate
from inevitability

I was laying on my side
which was all I was allowed to do
I was so pleased
by this limitation
but couldn't figure out

my mom dreamed
she was trying to get all these wasps off of me
but couldn't figure out
no one else saw them

Monday, March 12, 2018

get hair clips to make life better

I realize I don't have a poem but
I made a "want" list this week
feeling ravenous on all fronts
-the right, silver cube heel
-a sleeping bag


over Croatian wine
we share the fear 
of our aging bodies
my face is like
the uncarved side of Mount Rushmore
a cinnamon roll
I feel blurry
like that dog from the meme
my body is like
an overstuffed sausage on two toothpicks
my boobs are like 
see ya
my boobs are being
digested into my ass
my body is like
a dreidel 

the wine is not syrup
but perfume

Berkeley is quiet 
so quiet
that the sun feels loud

Saturday, March 10, 2018


waiting for a tree to fall on top of my house
waiting for the shit to hit the fan
Thumbelina sleeping in a walnut
the trees covered in snow are so clearly the same
as the branches of arteries and veins
I feel my heart pounding in my throat
Thumbelina emerges fully formed from a red poppy

Sunday, March 4, 2018

fallout shelter

I'd be so happy to feel sunshine
and a freedom
all the trees fallen in the snowstorm
Heavy tunnels in a misty world
I can't think clearly
the Oscars are so loud
my years are flattened
spending so much time
with people 3 times my age
I want to say this quickly
whatever it is I'm saying
the stress is a numbness in my jaw
a hypochondriac fit
10 Cloverfield
Or any dumb movie
Can do that to me
The suspense spilling over
And seeping into my world

this color green

  d e t a i l s
  r       f
deep image


top coat
leg veins
hair clips

sunset at CVS

oh the light
hitting aisles
hitting my

oh it's
still there
oh it's
draping the car

where is Livia
for this high light 

from within
the car
the sunset
is soon

when what you want 
is between a rock
and in a corner
between a pane of glass

in the future
in chartreuse 
in a crevasse...

the heavy lifting
of optimism
of rocks

the alien garbage
of my body of my
lack of discipline 

time to check
the habits
before I hate
or lose



wearing silk
chartreuse pajamas 
tanned and soft
mixing gold and silver
deep in summer

europa perhaps
glints of freedom
and balconies

wake up
fold it in
file it

wake up
bad, bloated
with a sense
of mistake

one good and
one bad phone item
the rest is just junk 
and the balance
keeps me in bed

get out
fold that in
file: stuck, shitty, bad
recycle the details
of desire to make
new, beautiful 
mind outfit