Dusty 15

Sometimes I think I see a white cat

slink around the corner

coming to tell me that he will die before I do

so as not to worry

but I worry that going to bed

is becoming one big thing

instead of scattered m&m's

behind me and

unopened bags before me

I worry that going to bed

has melted into an entity

and will no longer be

scattered m&m's behind me

with unopened bags before me

one time

before I went to bed

I received a picture of a waterfall

he sent me a picture of a waterfall

he said

I want to grow here with you

then and now the asterisks exist

sparkling around my ideas

of waterfalls, love, butterflies

he also sent me a picture that said

love is friendship set on fire

I also received a picture that said

love is friendship set on fire

in general, there is nothing I'd rather be

but when it comes to where I've been

it never feels like enough

just around the corner

just around the river bend

I think of all the rivers

running dry on our time

rivers that will die before I do

around the bend is still a rainy softball practice

or a black and white concentration camp

where everyone comes back as a cat

where everyone comes back

just around the corner from my bedroom

is the classroom where my teacher

pretended to be Hitler

with time, the rooms merge and

I am forced to hang up

a do not disturb sign on my doorknob

in my room thinking

thinking what if

my tag was dusty

I squeeze my cheeks in my hands

I look out the window

do not disturb me...

Once underground in a cold tunnel

with lots of little red night lights

it was dark except for the red night-lights

the night-lights had various settings-

blue, yellow, green, blue-green, yellow-red

the tunnels were cold and damp

but also had various settings

like swimming in an ocean with

a variety of temperature pockets

I could hear the echo of water trickling

infinitely far and wet

I took big gulps of the underground air

licking my lips and my cold face

looking around to see who else

I cupped more air between my hands

drank it down and licked my fingers

I cupped more air between my hands

and stroked it like a smooth, lucky rock

while walking towards the waterfall

singing acapella like Willie Wonka

following the trickle wondering

who else follows a trickle

heavy butterflies flapping inside of me

just around the corner

just around the river bend

doesn't make the cut

but I make the cuts my own

I own the cuts and

wonder who will care for me

and my cuts

if I lay bleeding on the tunnel floor

will the cat turn his head?

owls cooing near the trickling

shiny velvet bugs on my toes

shiny temple shoes on my feet

butterfly fossils decorate the walls

I am singing to myself in acapella

I am young and I love to be young

what's my age again

I am free and I love to be free

what's my age again?

and I am waiting to sing this again

once I stop singing

I found a temperature pocket

that was an east coast summer night

a pocket full of fireflies, gum and pennies

I was alone together with the humidity

trying to spread it on my stale baguette

to take to a breezy, French countryside pocket

to have a picnic while we listen to the trickle

I thought I saw a girl in sweatpants

slink around the corner

on the butt her sweatpants said "here kitty"

on the butt my sweatpants said "softball"

this pocket was full of cold bricks

waiting for summer

waiting for September

waiting for spring

waiting to leave

waiting to go back

waiting to die

waiting to die like a butterfly

waiting to be hung in a bedroom

that the girls built themselves

Yellow Ribbon

Holding still in the deflated divot 

of an air mattress  

I am always so small

One leaf shining in the window 

Is it an eye that flickers 

Or mouth of devil face 

Talking to me 

picture myself as a pile of jealous fruit

tumbled on a bed  

A cornucopia sinking garish

Like those silly paintings 

Giuseppe Arcimboldo

The fruits that make my body

turning dark sap soft and molding green chalk

I feel so ridiculous for that

Eat me!

A platter of fruit in a dark room

It's right to be a platter 

On this stately Victorian street 

So old and east

It's almost purple 

When I squint I can see black fringe

Silver glinting 

Iron rings for horses 

I wake up in California 

With the vacation bed birds

chirruping 

Hot pancake and syrup of a sunrise

I think about you

I imagine you and me buttery 

Our own yellow house in the west

working together at the pearl wallpaper 

Steaming and stripping

Nectar dripping 

Butterfly outside

reason

i do believe
you are what you perceive

digging in my heels
i still want to go back in time

tear for th first day of spring
tear like the snow melt

what comes is better than
what came before

i'm very young

I used to be so ready 
rolling the rock up a fantasy hill

now I could almost be the rock
rolling heavily foreverly away

at 4 in the morning 
the window looks like a purple TV 
covered in vines

a comfortable cage

Bad Seed

my dad and stepmom had another child when I was away
I haven't met her yet and she is already four years old
her name is Rosie
she has dark brown hair and a face tattoo of a broken heart
I want to get to know her so I go home
she sits on my lap and stabs me in the eye 3 times

with one end of her plastic headband

I try reasoning with her but she keeps hurting me
I cry because I know she has no human warmth in her

it breaks my heart to find out she is a bad seed

Brittany Reservoir

at 4 am 
she woke up with a sudden fever 
and let all her loved ones know 
that TSS 
might get the best of her

she even considered
quickly burning her diaries

"I'll die in my diary!"
written in there 
somewhere

at 8 am 
she woke up
and there was so much white fog 
that the mountains were completely invisible

she got the feeling 
of needing to solve it 
like a problem 
like spilt milk on the countertop

like a real

In the event of

stretching my legs

I'll see the half moon 

on the blue afternoon sky 

and a Christian education center
and some LA bumper stickers

I'll be blinking at Valencia's

suspiciously healthy grass

so glowing green that

I'm ready for a dinosaur 

don't people know 

that worrying doesn't get you 

to the place you're worrying about 

not getting to?

try writing self help

why do I feel like I know
essentially

how to be alive? 
I mean

one step at a time 

but

don't worry

walking around sweater

tied around my waist

not loving my outfit
not wearing a bra

how old do they think I am?

horrible things don't 

need to happen in order 

for someone to be worth listening to

right?

the man behind me 

is on a motor scooter 

I think because he can't walk

and he's listening to an audio book

out loud

LeRoi Jones said it
ghosts 
of after school figures 
who live here? 

toddlers wearing jeans...
middle schoolers wearing

big backpacks and new

primary colors

cool authority

with an earring

cul-de-sac-ville 

Old Course way
a shooter somewhere
a lockdown
a big belly
sunglasses and
fancy flip flops
meaningless shadows
Novela way
bikey boys
doors without windows
Dorado drive

Merry Pope
Chimney Rock road
it's not what it sounds like
gridded shrubs
who's who's
this attitude
this "bridge"
"this" place!

my man on the scooter
seeing it all the same?
unless he's blind or

Avenida jolita
has this park ever been dangerous?
a shooter somewhere
they're taking a video
a girl with a spray bottle 

on the basketball court

pretty sisters smile at me
on their after school bike ride
what do they know?
I'm "very interested" 

in gum spots and pretty sisters

a shady non-bench
a barking squirrel

let the sun be inside of me

let the flies be in front of me

positioned near a pool

outside it's gate so

alone in the day that 

I'm calling attention 

to my legs if I stretch them

nah

sitting up to cough at night

barking like a dog in bed

the night is black and I am blue
there used to be so many fun 

places to hide

This Time in Part

all the years that have felt the same for so long

feel different now

all the comin' round the bends

sit awkwardly on top

of the oblong calendar 

I made up as a kid

the year on saturn's rings

like spin art or

cotton candy

now rollerskating off into space

take off my shirt

put it back on

inside out

take off my shirt

put it back on

right side out

take off my shirt

put it back on

inside out

Salam

What is traveling for?
Looking for a piece on earth
looking for a peace place

I'm American
I wouldn't even know how
Slam poetry about my ancestors

The Holy Land is about as big as NJ
My best friend sister wife 
she's Jewish, Montclair NJ
this land is her land with a Haifa Uncle

I was just a spy in the Jews-only desert
I am also even a spy in the NM desert
I never remember the stories and I have to ask again and again, embarrassed

driving through Galisteo with mom
Where The Valencias Lived In The Late 1600s
cluster of old houses stone wood adobe
The little church
the dogs behind fences
no one around

Juanita my great great grandmother
was taken away by who? A Valencia? 
A pueblo Indian? at 15 years old?
scooped up off her family's ranch to be a bride 
I just picture my self at 15 
in a pioneer posture

Can you imagine being taken away on horseback at 15
my mom asks
Yes
I think I would've accepted anything at 15 years old
I thought I wanted to get married at 15 years old

I'm ready to get married now
to live in my ancestral peace desert
the NM one
yellow grass grown around brittle stones
we don't speak much in the car
I ask about the cacti
those are cholla

the cholla are black because it's winter 
hunched over like vulture piles with yellow flowers
and there are black cows
so black they look like holes cut out of the field
pretty things

Dusty tinsel of roadside memorials
a ghostly nativity scene in white christmas lights 

ask more about our family with land and livestock
I want dirt and horses
a porch to an endless rugged scape
There is even a historic saloon in Lamy called 
Legal Tender Saloon!
my favorite term

Slam poetry about my ancestors
where do I really come from 
I'm always stuck in the cracks
I wear my home in my heart

pledge allegiance to My Bed
speak through other people's signs
It's all on foot to me
it's all walking through it

old year

Any place can become an ugly place
Ugly places can become pretty
The young pink bathroom becomes gray and lazy
The tiles used to be wet candy
There was an elegant little forest
When the leaves all drop you see how short the distance is 
through the forest to the trucks on a road

I like the trucks and the forest
I remind myself
I like the tiles and the trucks and the forest

If I were a surgeon would I be unable to focus at work
Like all the other jobs
Would I still get that feeling like there was nothing behind my face
Would I forget what I was doing with my hands

I have lots of dreams about my school
I don't have any fantasies about what school can be anymore
I want a car (I don't even know what a car looks like)
But I have a fantasy about a car

Quick Time Light Heart

I love when all the trucks have to stop at the scales
there is something sweet
about duty

I want to sing a certain way so bad
that I get a pain in my throat
hearing Patsy Cline

I want it to stay a little bit light
all night

white sheets
homework
wife bowl
face wipes

how can someone's aura taste like whipped cream if they don't put it there?

No Water But Rain

zoom out

the grassy knoll
across the street
from the pool
the rose garden
the steep incline
all the different times
saying hi and bye
to all the different
people in that
halloween town

zoom in

bloated with rage
and slippery passion
I hate all the murderers
I fucking hate you
now what do I do
go home and
see it somewhere else
see it in the snow

out

the shroom shrubs
where dogs poop
white out tags
christmas flags

in
prayer

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

狐朋狗友

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?

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.