Winter Draft 2015

my life has been flashing before me
each night one flash at a time

each night a more perfect view

from my bedroom window
there is a house at an angle
I'd never seen it before
until it was lit up
practically dripping
with christmas lights
and tastefully placed
in a sky full of stars
tasteful and tucked away
so strange to see something so many people
would love to look at it in the middle of nowhere


when summer fantasies have faded

or something
holidays
terror
love
too

a fantasy can fade
and become a dried strawberry

try rehydrating it
try eating it with peanut butter

Summer Draft 2015

feeling the lightness of my forearms 

when I hold them 

above my head

in the morning

remembering the desperation 

to roam free as a teen

all of our investment

in this animal life

a hollow skeleton

on the side of the road

spells being cast in every direction

and at the end of the day 

we are someone, somewhere

poised to care 

furry flesh falling off the skeleton

trying to figure out what 

kind of animal at 90 mph

feeling high 

on the open road 

so many stories

make me wanna curl up

in a ball and 

not share

but my lifes not the craziest

I heard of

still constantly waiting

to take myself 

to the emergency room

obsessed with the freights

my trains of thought

"there's a romance to it"

along the river…

of life

I don't want to derail you

but I do want to feel

your open death bottle

the northern US like

a bowl of oatmeal

with dinosaur eggs

everything is meat!

free and meant to be

love on the page

which omen is it 2

which omen is it

when I’m the last person in line at the open casket

apple 1

a shameless stroll

in some bright white sneaks

a shameless stroll

around my heart

love on the page could look like

a still life

an array

a still bleeding napkin

an apple core

an expensive specialty apple

heavy and waxed

from last year

my newly bad skin

reflected in my coffee

something about fragile love

which omen is it

antibiotics

I’m fine to die but

I didn’t want to die just then

I’m ok to die right now but

I might not want to die later

a chemical imbalance

bound to rattle an organ

organs spread out like pate

and outside I’m always wearing 

a bike helmet

it = the belt

a dirty “belt” swaying from the back of  a truck

decorated with pro trump dust tags

thinking it could be a good edition to my wardrobe

the traffic lights go all night right

in bed there are empty streets

and I dream a more fucked up version

of a pink belt that I already have

thick and dirty with extra buckles

GH

poetry = the greatest hits of lit

like charms without their chain

Mary 1

it’s April

it’s hot AF

southern California smells like

hot rosemary

rediscovering bicycles and

therefore

feeling like "anarchists"

Mary 2

a poet should know that

not every situation calls for poetry

they need not insert

poetry

into every situation

“ideas” these days ought to be

censored

ask yourself

“does here need an idea?”

poetry may always be extracted from but

not always injected into

a situation, moment, etc

make a checklist

:/

the business model for intimacy

a trendy idea that we would like

to be greeted and

treated like friends

“hi welcome to CVS”

hi but then I gotta use a robot?

something is missing

how does this work

CVS

people have such a hard time

it breaks my heart

he has the handicap plates,

a 30 rack

and I want to cry

I hope he is loved

Solitaire Windows

Maybe

maybe we can say lemon
once and a while
hold a lemon
once and a while

a lemon hanging from a tree
beside my head,
outside my brain
beyond comprehension

we talk about how
there is nothing to say


18

starting and stopping at 18
feeling
like a dork,
feeling anti-
technology, smitten by
travel, by bar and restaurant


V-Neck

there is something that always
rubs me the wrong way
when I see a photo of a poet
especially a contemporary one
there is something I hate about that
they are cheating like me, maybe
they aren't making any sense!
especially when they use the word
"baby" as an address
it makes them look worse, with the
cleavage and confidence (?)

I want something more than
a sort of black brightness


Maybe

I worry that poetry is bad in general
usually bad


Chasms

big booty girl from a cave painting
Demeter?


Bed Mountains

fake rugs and alcoholics
bad mountains
something about not
wanting to go to the bathroom
after sex, but I always do
but tonight I was deep
asleep
hungry and hollow
vodka
hours later
cranberry


Great Neck 

Mary had one cop tire on her car
sort of like a spare, a donut
a sort of small, black tire
a card game, a cop tire
I didn't want to go or didn't
want some part of that place
sort of worried sick about
1. the semi-open shower window
2. the word "surround"
3. the GAP ad gangsters
4. and their outfits: solid
chunks of color, all shapes
and sizes (like we are taught
when we are young- how
everyone comes in different
shapes and sizes) surrounding
the perimeter of that place
while inside my dad's new
girlfriend is peeling plastic off
a laptop in a juicy jumpsuit

use the word til it's dead
beside my brain
juiced dry

a lemon

a v-neck

a jumpsuit

different every time

peeling plastic off a laptop

a card game, an image search

outside of comprehension in the sun




























Making Fun

cheating like me
not making sense like me
always want
to finish
like this
like a bite
of a plum
for me
like this
fin
like I hate
but
I love something
I'm smitten
wanna
sip
the drink
forever
and
tie
with
a
bow
fin
or
a soft
branch
with
credits
rolling
every
time
excuse me
fin
and also
look at me
doing
this
and
my
picture
look
at
my
neck
fin
in
my
picture
wink
there
kiss
fin

Book Club

Snow Book

I found a book made of snow

its pages fallen open like batter pouring into a pan

I didn’t try to pick it up
I can read it off of its podium...

Four Seasons

I should have salted myself ages ago

Seasoned my life to cook more flavorfully

My thoughts are all of the animal fantasy variety

Sun and sex

Yellow straw and sea salt

I think about East of Eden and Rosemary's Baby style pregnancies 

Am I capable of becoming terrifying? 

An icy menace?

Women's resentments, insults and injuries absorbed

the way sea air swells old floorboards 

Which is one sort of seasoning

 I think indulgently about what would be said at my funeral 

Would I have been better as a flash in the pan of life 

as it were? Forever an Emo Virgin?

I remember when I was 12 telling my dad

I don't think I will ever be in a relationship

and I will never have sex

He said Oh, you will. You will be a little sensualist.

What a gross thing to say

I had a vision of smearing lard down the front of a man's button down

A large amount in the breast pocket

Smoothed out across the top like when you measure flour in a cup

sestina

kids on their way to school picking oranges

cute, but there’s something noir about it, something blue

some of them have plastic bags on their hands

like you use for poop, so I keep my distance…

some of them have enormous backpacks, really

really big ones for their new lifetime supplies

what will their mothers do with their supplies?

how many bowls might they sacrifice? like the orange

bowl that holds the beans right now, or the really

tiny bowl for the tacks painted in a serious black and blue

perhaps the oranges might get spread out with distance

around the house so everyone can always get their hands

on one regardless of which room "wash your hands!"

say the mothers when it comes to eating orange supplies

the kids with their backpacks with their secrets get distant

they get territorial they say “mom you didn’t pick these oranges”  

the mothers might roll their eyes and walk outside into the blue

afternoon, golden, beautiful, it’s California is what it is, really

truly beautiful with birds chirping at a marbled sky, really

feels like a vacation all the time, with rings on their hands

little stones glistening in the syrupy sun some bright rocky blue

walking around the dirt yard they step over piles of earthquake supplies

such as water, crunchies, lemons, greens, pop ups and orange

jars of peaches with such light fair one could travel a great distance

from where the wood has piled up to the fruit trees is a distance

vast as a state of mind with distant sharp metallic noises and really

bright sun showers- ditching the day with a pour of violette orange

back in the dirt yard the neighbors drop by to dig holes with their hands

cute tool sets with ant farms and knives they all come well supplied

a plastic bag with more plastic bags inside and one is light blue

they all know that post orange is blue

almost black, a night with a long, serious distance

til day til each kid will be sunned fed and supplied

with all the proper vitamins like B K FISH S N and really

quickly they zip up their packs and slide into plastic their hands
leaving a trail of zest behind them as the scan the ground for fallen oranges

Same Party

an aisle seat view of
3 train cars ahead
all open sesame like
pink twinkies or
sausage links
swaying heavily

people are puffy

it's new year's eve
and down coats are going
about their special occasions
each one a twin in the cold

one may as well trudge along
with their train neighbor
linking arms! or just sipping air
puffy and stoic
in the dark black like friends
as if
walking in silence is comfortable
as if the same party is theirs

and when they pass a warmly lit window
framed by faux frost and dried chilis
one down shadow enters the shop
and the other keeps walking
one down shadow orders a bun
and the second gets mugged
not long after

the old days, the pink tea parlor

some pink silence
some soft waiting
it's a moving clock!
arms and hands
little puffy sausages!
gripping the little poles
the cold train on the tracks
covered and accented by
mostly dark but some
cuddy gems in the teeth
or a buried ring
draped with a glove
like a little dead body
in their bed

still with wonder perhaps
of mauve, of dead pink
of open doors, the
meaning of express

or the feeling of express
the feeling of the sausage
cars lining up quickly
stars lining up quickly
a secret tea parlor blown out
online, so we stand in a queue
on the bloody ankle where
there is no view
from either end of this little curved road
so no one can see what happens here
in the middle
so
gangsters used to give each other
bloody ankles here
outside the tea parlor

Mobile

Settling into the pumpkin patch
The passenger seat lulls me to sleep
When the sun is setting
I am the cold dark shadow of a dog
sleeping in the grass with crisp outlines
I am the shadow of your hand

Don't Judge

when your bald head
is the same color as your pants

perhaps a fantasy has faded
a become a dried strawberry

try rehydrating it with water
try eating it with peanut butter

Winter/Spring 2016

icicle stilettos
a natural cluster of icicles
as if dripping from a cave
or a suburban doorway
a duration piece
for girls who go clubbing
and want flats by
the end of the night
"melt me down"

California Roommates

the underlying story
is of our friendship

the wooden floored room
resembled an art school lobby
near St. Mark's place

set up with folding chairs
Cosi sitting in the middle
surrounded by accessories
talking out loud about our friendship

a voiceover

On her friendship with me
what it would be like to live
with me some place else
with a different layout of rooms
rooms with wooden floors
and drywalls

underlying the sporting event
the presentation, the projection?
wet, wintery shoes on the wood

a guy in a wet suit who is not the master at this sporting event
but probably is a master at swimming
is there to be challenged
by a master, and then by me

everyone is watching us fight for some dollar bills
but this is a real start to a real thing that now maybe
he is a master at

wet paint warnings everywhere
in the old firehouse art school
projections of St. Mark's place
on the drywall

I am up on the windowsill
in my wetsuit
a physical match! the resistance is hilarious
light-hearted
like a wrestling match with your dad when you're young

everyone is laughing
a dollar bill rips in half!
I was laughing so hard
I thought I might cry

I was still somehow the new girl
comfortable yet critically observed
in a wet suit on the windowsill
still hearing "on friendship" by Cosi
still confused about moving out
to a place with wooden floors

unsettled, possessed

rewound, our match
is spliced with images
of juicy oranges

Dusty Bis

III.
I think about dissipating into the sky
or falling from it
Into the still scene below
Like printer paper laid out in sheets side by side
An improbable checkerboard
The first third of your life is over when you turn four
And the years get smaller and smaller from then on
Like ants marching off into the desert
Or perhaps through one big Dusty Bistro
All bananas and Chinese breakfast tea
Rhinestones on tip jars
In 2016 I want at least four times four
salty seasons
Give me Fifty Senses
A jingling coin purse
A soft wind and my twin
We are ants on a trail
.....Black square....White square......
Black square....White square..........
That's the checkered floor
A jingling coin purse
My twin and soft wind
When the plane turns like a top
On the tip of the wing
I'm just playing
Plain games

Xmas

There are demons among us
possessions left and right
We encircle the sand pit made of bricks
I pierce a demon in the heart
with a long stake, a tool, a rake
she lays down in the fire
With black hair and pointed eyebrows
S & M but a ragged sooty gown
I know she should turn to ash and burn like paper
turn black and curl into tiny pieces that lift into the sky
But she is half doing that and half defying the exorcism trick
she won't die
A Christmas demon
Red bricks and black leather
I sink into the corner of the narrow cave
Satan is Real sang the Louvin Brothers

Coquito

tiny, dynamic ghosts
black shadows on the attic ceiling
I'm not scared of them
ghosts in the boxed chardonnay
can't seem them but
the wine came out brown
returning the box of The Borrowers
to the Wine Library
where the box didn't even
come from in the first place
but the Wine Library
is absolutely where the Borrowers belong
with all those dark wooden alcoves
and secret doors leading to
tasting rooms?
cheese samples, crystal displays
3 miniature dimensions
I thought maybe I needed glasses

accidentally crushing a straw angel in the attic window
ghosts in the fridge
on the legs of a table
an empty space for a stove

Journalism Marble

jogging down the main road

we all start the same,

all poems start

the same

my body, smoggy, jogging

a hollow rubber suit

thick and chalky

utilitarian

untitled, empty

the scenery is 

only green 

in the shade

the shade is

rare, useless

my nose dripping

a dusty slime

tuning in and out of

the radio online

“It’s funny

I’m having a little

hard time going

back to life

as usual

when you hear

such terrible

news”

they just added a taco truck

to Val Verde

a tiny toy tiny toy

“I’m not used to it”

do the funny hippies here 

stay inside all day?

do I never here see the day?

I see

renta(l) busses with tumbleweed tires

and a type of 365 crunchy leaf

“I’m feeling a bit shaky”

I worry about hemorrhoids

and birds pooping through

my skylight

I worry about the earth

trying to quake

us all off it

I smell horses

I smell tin foil

“That’s the job of people

on TV and on the radio

I know a lot of people in Paris”

I have a guest closet, a skylight,

tinfoil

“I get freaked out”

Inside the refrigerator

is a metallic mystery

shiny clumps of egg?

chicken? mine? hers?

old new?

“OK sorry”

I had been waiting

for a cold sore, a terrorist attack

and Friday the 13^th

I had been waiting to

feel unsafe on the
marble at large

a massacre is really soft

so I’m reminded
I'm lucky, swollen

“I don’t mean to get emotional

it’s just when you read

such terrible things”

jogging on the main road

to avoid any alone time

with loose dogs

 “there’s a black dog loose”

the old lady is saying

from across the street

I worry about the loose dogs

where the road “ends soft”

so I’ll stall outside of

the fast stop (2)

tiny toys, tiny trucks, tiny

loose dogs

at least she didn’t say

“mountain lion” ?

I see

my favorite type of tree

as if wrapped with

invisible twine

I see the playset

            ( x )( o )

            ( o )( x )

lizards, butterflies

pinwheels, ziplines

kids making sparks on a leaf

not surprised

if we all ignite

Funaday Workaday a fun i've never known

Before sleep thoughts laying on my stomach in the park

Rob me blind! rob me blind!

So sure that makes the most sense

When a thing sleeps is when it is time to accept its money

Like working in the restaurant 

Ok pay me and I'll go home

The full-body subway turnstiles like iron maidens
push me along
Thinking about money as if I am from another planet 

"Ah yes I must have exact change, hold on"

Little coins in my coinpurse glowing through my pocket 

Little crinkly bills 

Flowing like a river through my fingers 

"Thank you have a nice day"

In the lining of my nice lady coat 

Coat of a nice lady
When I'm sleeping is when the money comes and goes

The restaurant goes to sleep and we collect the money

It goes dark and quiet

Closes its eyes 

I am a restaurant and the restaurant is me

At home in bed sleep, precious, sleep

says the restaurant
At home in bed

He is mad at me because I can't identify the plant with small yellow flowers

Language isn't important anyways he mocks bitterly 

stomps away, glaring from across the room

I roll over becoming aware of the bed 

the soft warm arm across my waist

I am not the restaurant any more

pumpkin spice paper mill

I fell asleep jogging in the rain
tripping on peak foliage

and woke up sleeping
against a chain link fence






feeling inferior to a long haired high schooler
with tall boots and a big pink backpack





on our way home





she looked at me like...





I thought my hat was red this whole time
so is that REALLY MY GREEN REFLECTION
in a wet car

am I really wearing hat
am I the town munchkin?
want to be the town something





for weeks I been planning to write write write write
write and my pen starts out out of ink





to do:
a perfect rainy
thing like bake
a pumpkin loaf
and bring a piece to
dad and mima
rolling in the wet car
on October 28

baby pink eyeliner

waking up softly...
baby pink eyeliner

smooth
plane at night
like the freeway, smooth
landing on the freeway
it's OK
one with a couple cars

descending is always
so evokative
so much "on this view"
of LA
the return to something
so large
it's impossible
to make a word
for the whole of it
instead,
collecting corners
and vague theories
of grounded-ness
in the freaking air

the view and it's follow through
never cease to be the opposite
of home, old and cold, cave-like

once I've touched down I know how to go about the rug to make it fun and some playmates are there waiting
it's the rug in one room of my home theory
it can be exciting, in the basement
I've gotten to know it well although it remains xL

I don't associate myself with this rug off the bat but there's something about it for me for sure after all it is in one room of my home theory and there are playmates there waiting for me even if some are unfamiliar or strangely big zooming in on movement hovering now waiting to be actually back again trapped in the rug until I take anther night plane and get eaten next to for six hours bags and bags of kosher junk and a hat box in the overhead sliding looking cool in secret the eater whispering into his cell phone a mystery glow under his seat and a few bumps here and there is an understatement and one week is simply confusing

A paper chain 

of multiple me's

Fold them back 

into a stack 

and puncture them 

through all of their 

stomachs

simultaneously. 

Separate the places 

the hands connect 

and let my layers 

flop open like a flower

flip 
flop

flip




flop

big to be back, brown, beach, blonde, gone

classic feelings for lava libra update 15


trying to write poems in my head
on the beach at night
something about a blow up doll
inflated with love

I thought of her shiny and stiff
in the corner
trying to make her me!
full of love,
living off it

soft blanket of ocean
warmer than noontime
lapping up to my knees
something naughty
and clean


"a snakeskin clad mammal
cruising the beach
with a raisin rage lip
and two bleach blonde streaks"


sand piper ghosts
stay 20 feet ahead
as I follow them
on the slick
moonlit sand

a shadowy
belted figure
complete with a cap
says hey,
stay off the surf!
the stingrays are a month early

why do you have so many
accessories at night?

but that's my cue
I think
I'm watching out for you

high tide gonna
kick you off the beach
if nothing else
gonna send you back
to your sandy bed
eventually
feeling
tan at night
walking from the hard
to soft





a different day
running TO the beach
with wet blue nails
(also purple and sultry)
fireworks in the distance
a small girl in a yankees
shirt and a low pony
emerges and my heart
beats in the center
of familiar love!

NJ plates glow
with the motion
sensors

lemme be a smooth
little baby down
the shore for
all four seasons

more on the doll
if I can remember
what else it was
about her

How it feels to be flipped by a wave

If I could curve perfectly with its figure 

Like a spiral

Like a spiral 

Be a little more Pacific  

What if the turbulence on the plane were like that

Tumbling and sandy

Shocked at my shrinking size, the spider going down the drain

Tangle of legs

Last night Jamie as a child led me through a dream

Telling me secrets, letting me in on the joke  

Tell me let me 

Tell me let me

I stay saying

Stuck under the running faucet 

of my clear cold mind

I need a little ocean 

Every little once in a while

A little green wave

You know what it's like 

So merrily but a dream

Emerald Brand Select Frag

Small breasts with nipples that wilt in and down
The prepubescent petal look
I shouldn't be on the blacktop
people think i'm twelve

Summer, Summer
The overly sexual Lounge
Waiting for you
A sigh that is Too heavy 
Asserting independence 
A sigh for me
and no one else

In the quick shadows of clouds that pass overhead
While he plays basketball
She ages at an accelerated rate
Fighting back against the way time flattens
How can anyone ever be tired in this life