highlighting 2

...what happens to the birds
in strong winds like these?
i saw them fly fast from a tree
really fast
the warm (hot) winds today
have blown my sourness
into another place
replaced it with a witchy pleasure
some kind of permission
i wouldn't be surprised
to find an unidentifiable animal
licking its hands in my room
i have already removed a spider
from the shower that curled
into the cup until freed
into the pile of lumber
outside the bathroom window

a meanness in the drama of
the fast, dappled light
i just feel motion

highlighting

...my 27th birthday is on tuesday
and tonight i'm fantasizing
about the afterlife
a dark church with candles
and torches
where your body is whatever
you want (clay!)

thinking of Anne

the spiral staircase
the inflatable classroom
my apple product
fixedness or think
itselfness
fixed against my will
fixed against my
wild potential for
change or inevitable
period
my height fixed
against the answers
on the top shelf
this to me is
damp
to me is time
somewhere before
time's pores

Meanwhile in Russia

Nargiz says to get on the subway
you have to ride an escalator so many stories down
into the earth
and she noticed
there are no advertisements anymore
lining the walls on the way down
closer and closer
to the earth’s core
because of the new campaign for
community health
and cigarettes aren’t displayed for sale
anywhere
they are in a metal cabinet with a big heavy door
you can’t impulse buy them
you have to ask a clerk for a key and
open the heavy door

I’m Going Through Changes

mirrors everywhere
in the Ethiopian restaurant/bar
dim blue haze light
sleepy hookah and top 40 rap in the back
karaoke and hipsters in the front

against a mirrored wall
we talk about the “Green New Deal
is not your friend” idea
half-measures towards dismantling
a system where the US holds the keys
to all kingdoms
Vera from Mexico
brings up an article she read about
an experimental clinic trading healthcare for art
I ask
how would the world over change 
if the US valued music and art
as much as business and military
her cheeks get hot, tone changes
everything the US exports is Fascism
pop music for a profit...withholding medical patents
...my classmates have oil paint but I have a stack of magazines
so I make collages... the US calls the shots for the world 
there is no sense of value in just existing
my brain is too drunk, I agree
I cry a tear for the confusion
she misunderstood my use of the word value?
the rage that I feel and am lumped into
I ask what she’s doing in the states
wasting my life and enjoying my time
I say good, excellent
I hope we’re not fighting cos I agree
are we the same or
noses getting redder
smoking in the cold backyard

L’s brother makes maps
one shows that the places that consume
the most energy and resources per person
have the most militarized borders
protecting that fortress of cushiness
a short term security
for the fucking of the future

how much worse does it have to get
“Science of Revolution”

radicalized middle class millenials

hiding in the massage chair
upstairs room everyone calls
the green room, minty walls
laundry everywhere
big tv with NFL on mute
reading poetry in the massage chair
if I indulge in the chair for too long
will it tenderize me?
there’s a Costco jamón downstairs
after you’re done slicing
you’re supposed to lay the thick strips of fat
back on top of where you sliced to seal it up
the refs are the best part of sports
the stadium falls silent
spot light on the black and white striped shirt
everyone pays respect
to the secret code language
as he announces the call

Focus Travel Inc.

NYC Chinatown is the best painting

how are you gna try to make art when

maybe how are you NOT gna try to make art when

there's the door at 83 Eldridge

faded checkerboard contact paper
two way mirroring like mercury

I reach around for the Mandarin words I know

The Privilege of the Access Class

of spying, of observing

how to observe responsibly

by everything i mean

forging a relationship with
my new cat we sit together
watching the flame flicker
on the attic ceiling
she even makes her eyes
slits while I lean back
on the bed
for the clouds
parading

eyes landing on
migrating birds
you know

when you're a kid
your dad's arms
span the bench like
batwings
his gloved hands and
now California alone

i say its nice out when shits
canceled or
the balloons are horizontal
is not everything clearly
solemn, the pedestal

the sun came out on my last sprint
the first HBCU band to play
ppl say that's great mom says
check your calendars
don't forget the rainbow on that drive
or how the shadows of the blowing leaves
stay on the ground
in the moment of sun
i say it's nice

god is poetry again
for the third time this week
and it's only Thursday

Tuesday morning

feel inappropriate wearing my brother's sweatpants in the graveyard 

but I’ve been coming here my whole life

the dead-end of my old street 
the blue house with the actual well 

Twitch 1er

when you think of your name so hard

it starts to hop away

or crumble

and you’re left with

a cutout thing 

the top of your head

an untied dog

on the 27th

when everything feels

relatively screwed in

i talk to Livia

under the gray sky

make lunch all day

with the same two fingers

i type something

devastating

i'll never learn 

sliding around

like a piano

with the same fingers

the clouds

to be someone's first dog

to be brought home 

tasket

my mind changes like a ball rolling 

a stone picking up dirt

my head the hand or the basket 

raining

I share a birthday with Hemingway and Robin Williams
how annoying is that
not a threat just an emo observation

also the T.Rex album Slider came out on the same day in 1972
and when I'm sad
I sliiiiide

LeafBlowerOnLaptop

speculating that the guys in the kitchen are all older
than the owner of the restaurant
and they’re all his dads like
instead of having kids, he has dads

fruits of labor

Do you want to be loved?
We all need to go to egodeath bootcamp

In my mind I ask my new friend questions constantly
Do you think a truly socialist/communist society would be like a colony of ants or bees?
Do we want to be like a colony of ants?
Rigid, indistinct, but elegant, cohesive, cooperative

Think about how we see bees
We admire their lack of ego
Their communal efforts, what they produce and pollinate
Industrial agriculture is killing them and we lament their extinction

People are scared of uniformity but admire it in the animal kingdom
Because our ideas of freedom are tied to ownership?
Because we wish we could be so selfless?
Where does the letting go start and does it ever end?

I know I am misunderstanding the concepts
but I try

pickles and rice

at a big nature place
rainwater big trees
caught in weather

somewhere I'd been
vetted

a bathtub located
near the common
spaces

we
watched a sort of
PSA

a worried,
glowing face
in the tub

she said
she was nominated
and then forgotten

came to somber
but soft

with rich brain like
marinated

2727

going to sleep
elevated against
wide open window
in cool shape of moonlight

woke up feeling this way

woke up and it's beautiful
a headache
music still
moonlight still

could someone else feel this

this triangular spiral of gratitude 

the room where you walk 

a while to the bed

defining feelings:

bubbles

cut on pinky

churning

late-night dinner with a friend

getting stoned in another city

the night as a character 

like the bedframe is doing my hair

in a low bun

that's how integrated 

that's how crossfaded

I contemplate the tap water

she says he'll torture me

my skin does

baking soda and 

castor oil

healing clay

in the day I stick my feet out

the same window

into the BLUE sky

...

All My Relations

in the morning the cat does the thing

like the cop car on the freeway

snaking across lanes and 

I’m the cars behind her

In the morning you should

ask the day what it needs

when peoples poems

just list the evils

notes from the other 

side of the fence

but

it’s Sunday

I won’t start talking shit yet

in the morning my mom

goes to church

in New Jersey

in the morning 

I think of moss

the undercommons

the universitas

it’s not about me

my dad’s marrying

someone from Atlantic City

when I recognize some

girl I go I fucking

know that bitch

all my relations is

such a treat

like a flat spiral

sucker all the moss

sisters

when I recognize 

someone I should be more 

like robin the gentle

botanist 

think of the morning

of your life

it’s probably over

it’s a sucker

someone said

whatever you thought you were gonna be when you grow up

is fake

we watch double dare 2000 on youtube

my camera is covered with tape

we are being watched by my neighbor

his overripe tomatoes

listing the evils

or 

actually feeling

someone inside you

is your heart like a library

or

a fruit out of season

my friend was scared of spiders in bananas

my friend found a crow feather in a bag of spinach

why is spinach in a bag

but really why is it in a box

its the type of lonely when

you’re doing a job in a white button down shirt

when you also have long 

nails and so many thoughts

lonely like a basement

when I recognize someone I go

mom

she’s the lonely, fearless woman

a manicured wanderer

an entire universe

she’s Tinka, Lucia and Loo-chia

she’s ageless grace

in original costume 

exposed veins

she’s a packing peanut

a vampire

a black jack dealer

the lonely, fearless woman

ancountering men 

on the path

becoming a pair 

by space and time 

alone

an accident

she is quiet but

sturdy in her slides

it’s not about me

my second manifesto

second man I've 

seconds left to

the path I thought

the Payless 

he Popeyes

the path mark

secondly

don’t try to write about PMS

it’s the mug at my old hairstylist

a puffy cage

a root system

the city 

the genre

the show

I go I fucking know 

this town

the toxic 

the sexy 

the month

the baby

the eggs and

the dumplings

the night 

the heat and

the T

give advice but also

same

we all miss the morning

the candy

what to do  

with the desire to party

peanut butter cup rash

Veruca Salt

rolling

the wedding

the motives

are murky

the deed 

its done

the shooting

its urgent 

stop saying

its murky

paint it in

oil so it

never dries

would you rather 

sleep on this panel

or ask the day what it needs

remember

the root system

the radio

the core

if the heart

were a planet

what would the morning

have wanted

a year of eclipses

strung on a necklace

beads on the floor and

the pearls aren’t yours

we say we're not crushing

or fucking foundation

interconnection

remember we die

I remember trying to open to the door for the dog

words turn to stone so

go skip urgent in the river 

when you’re done with

the thing

saying urgent so many times

like we have more time

it's throwing the rocks

at our ears

murky motives

erosion

crumple the script 

like a cartoon

abolish this routine

abolish these condolences

we are all connected

and It's not an idea

who wants to lead

who wants to harness

who wants to churn

who wants to do it

we have food leftover

at the end of the night

who wants to get the bag

who is going to disperse 

who is going to invent a charger 

for whats dead

someone said 

what you thought you were gonna be when you grow up

doesn’t exist

who is going to sift

fuck mastery

the new job options are

inventor of recharger

recharger of what’s dead

composter of poison

the braider of dread

you can be the day asker

the morning burier

the night juicer

but

the woman in the white shirt

will be worshiped 

today my family is the shape of a vase

its not about me

the root system

the death of my cat

I can call my dad and

he will know

this might be the last time

he will understand

in this way, 

the bottom of the vase

a traffic jam

if another cat dies

it won’t have ever been his

he will only know the

death and not cat

the wide opening up top

Cucumber eats

rose petals like they’re chips

she loves fresh growth

the way an era

gets compressed

makes me Open the curtains

and take off my pants

posts of

quotes from

Anne Frank

the composter of poison 

the paper balls

in the bin

a poem 

finishing itself

in scraps

the spindly shreds

of collage, swept

into the trash

my translator said I have a few 

options for edge

edge like cliff, edge like

corner

edge like 

the far end of the room

or edge like

border 

timelapse pinecone

in a flat fake world
we feed on the feed
we really keep
pressing the button
like lab rats

he just wants to collect charms
and hear them tinkle against each other
that sound is what he needs
it is tinny and cheap but we all need it

sun or dumb
phone or screen
touch or together
alone
timelapse
pinecone

Loona

the waxing moon sits with us while
we eat our dinner on the balcony
when I look at her I think about
all my female friends, the ceramic dish
Celia made me a mini full moon
with finger marks as craters
I use it to burn candles and wishes
written on silver and gold leafed joss
paper listening to Goldie’s “Timeless”
album again it’s like a time lapse of the moon
rising in a movie, my partner’s discarded
contact lenses in the toilet bowl
a pair of shiny divots in the water
St. Lucia style presentation but floating
and bowl, not plate. carrying plates of eggs
Benedict at my new job, dreaming new job
dreams at night, rolling along smoothly
superstitiously

Fantasia Violas

I water the plant

and the flowers face the sun again

oh dirty

when I recognize
some girl I go
I fucking know that bitch

all these earthquakes
in my body
pulse on the front
of my hip

how am I not gonna remember
everything I did yesterday
but still wish I did more

remembering bikes at night
having one friend
lazy afternoon
hazy
cow sound

I know a place that's quiet
except for the daisies

craving new york
like a fucking donut
craving the gaze
jazz
a long symbol

but then
driving up the coast
my "blond" hair
blowing in my eye
my arm is just a piece
of me
and somehow I'm not
throwing my identity
against a wall
the classical music station
the ocean!
they said
anti-road rage

I literally hate the guy
who hovered on the shore
behind me
in my rust thong bikini
I saw his friends egg him on
he's preying on me
he's being a vulture
and there's no way
around

the warm warm
water the warm
cloudy evening
the shark sighting
care or

I've had these same
summer blues since
skaters
cigarettes
sunrise
and probably before

people drop off
care or
revel

choose

Choose Writing vs Choose Reading

neighborhood this morning smelled like 

mowed lawns and goose poop

childhood Lake Merritt park smell 

the cork trees and the grass maze

feel the gritty sand of the playground

on the cement wall where you feed the birds

shoes on that texture, hands on that

the rotary nature center

dimly lit ever cool sanctuary 

the thrill of visiting the bees

with their little tunnel to outside

putting your ear to the humming plastic 

bus to NY again 

guided meditation for birthdays and renewal?

guided meditation for I just quit my job?

phone phone phone

song about community 

song about technology and magic

song about I will never know enough 

the beautiful marshlands of New Jersey 

song about an orange windsock

song about a rusty bridge 

mental block against whimsical writing 

in this precipice hurting world

buzzing like an indoor-outdoor bee

on Wednesday I rescued a bee 

from the hot sun gravel in the 

courtyard of the Rodin museum 

put him in the shade with a leaf

little top-heavy bus in the sky 

overpass above a leafy gorge

precipice indeed

to be a snail

to be a bee

to be a butterfly 

a pollinator practice 

grandpa calls on my birthday

and we talk about global warming 

he says 

service is what it’s all about 

grandpa as the Cal bear

he said he’d send me a video of the waterfall he built 

so I can watch it and meditate 

I asked if he does that sometimes 

he said

No, no... I don’t do that 

ephrodite

when desire is laid on you
like a hot stone
the heat could fade
but I ask it to stay

I want the fresh produce
the thunderstorm

but who am I
all of us
of course

did you know this, sign,
was going away?

I think of Going Away
it's childish,
sweet

I'm drinking wine this afternoon
but don't worry about me

when a crush is laid --

it's like that
you know a video
of a textural layer
being spread
but laid
two hands at
two corners

I still walk to
the sweet hole
in the concrete river
slanted and stained

the function of truth
in poetry

the trickle of green slime

that's not what it is!
(share this with the kids)

it's a little bit of sad water

I got some good
out of pizza
as I pass the rock labyrinth
I think its the opposite
I got free drinks
well,
earned

at the end of the day

I want to be entertained

to live for solitude
under the sun
but
how does one
end a night too hot
to sleep

too drunk to read
cold shower
texting
wisdom
all of it

sometimes
I wanna lay the fuck down
and submit
to another energy
some say movie
but
it's just
tediously sexy
to be this temp
this tan

an earthquake but
fully upside down
and we fall off the surface
don't come at me

in bed w/
the ice bandana

Schemer 1

think of borrowing
honestly

it's not my house

the shiny toys
the soft cat
the hot night

have I lost something?

trouble
my friends
right here

cameras in the corners
capture naughty
broken glass and
just bad
behavior

the summer becomes
a bloody sheet
a four-corned
problem

removal
a bullfight
a somersault

the blood as
a sort of
downtown

a personalized
reparation
a shell

the clock
like soft
raindrops
all night
another time

if you're not helping
I don't care
about you

have I
lost something

the smoke alarm
the pink bench
are warm to me

so often

use pleasure
to sedate

I'm sweaty
in a fantasy

speechless
and bigger

The Figure Of “The Child” In American Politics

“The always already white Child
is also always already
healthy and nondisabled;
disabled children are not part
of this privileged imaginary
except as the abject other.”
- Alison Kafer,
Feminist, Queer, Crip
(32-33)






realizing the compulsorily
able-bodied-ness
of wanting to "be the stair step"
better to be a ramp
and anyway
why is highness the object?
safety when the floods come

Walt Whitman in the air, buzz
springtime, his 200th birthday
museum events and fanfare
humanity, nature

I think
     Song of My Selfie
I surveil myself 
     and what I assume you shall assume

I see metal petals
the capital
behind everything
it is spring
it is glorious
 and I am
daisy chained
to my devices

we are out of time
vs.
we are outside of time

on my balcony
second story with a third story above
feels like a river boat
watching the thunder storm
watching for the floods
wave my hanky
as we leave the harbor

Caring

something about

how I am letting myself be cared for

and how 

it is too easy

do I take care of my big friends

like they take care of me?

am I the stairstep?

trippin

sketched out by my old feelings

popping up

like just be

quiet

unless you've got something big to say

make yourself 

scarce

don't embarrass me

Livia

mayday bread puppets garlic

walking dog
finding a melody
my fav voice is the kazoo
that sometimes happens
vibing in my head
Jardin Sous La Pluie
community garden
dump truck toy

we don't 
         want
      to be free
cuz 
fences 
 look 
          like 
jewelryyyyy

there's a park in my neighborhood
called Squirrel Hill Falls
it's got a tall iron fence
and rows of benches
facing a mural of a hyper realistic waterfall
trees all around it
it's convincing
to visit like a landmark
quiet and peaceful in there

I have no body
I'm just a head
like, suspended
plus hands and feet
like, a post on mega
with nothing in it just a title
at the top
and a
Posted by Bistro at 7:18 PM
at the bottom
how much can you delete?

the meaning of 
the moon and stars
is STOP
the bullshit

long shadows on the page of happy hour
song about sunburn

I like that the tap water
comes from the Schuylkill
I'm really becoming this place
it's hospitable
that I'm allowed
chlorinated river dirt chemical water
inside and outside of me

Lit by MK and Today

the edge of a thought
a new groove I remember
being beautiful
a tattoo
new spots stay scarring
in the sun it stays now
from May 1 -
yelling in the park
honking w the heart
music and power
to the ppl

when a poem just
floods you with certainty
a cover letter to cry on
I say I a lot
I want to defend poetry
it's depths and powers
a package of air that'll
blow your head off but
fits in the palm of your hand

flood you with consideration
thank you for it, for time

Wednesday Mega May Day
almost
a cherry
I see
six flags
your scrunchie
period
blood
the website
silver
it's spring
for short
a fly
the sun
it's 5
warm beer
hurt neck
again

need dessert
again
something wavy
so easy to say
sun all the time
sun kiss sun's
out sunshine
the comfort
of daylight
candy
does it work the same?
cake
friends
digestif
the menu
to write
to see
we taste
and feel
I think
I know
I do

Celebrating Young People's Gender, Sexual Diversity and Self-Expression Pt 1

sitting in baggy clothes

refreshments behind me

something like a mermaid purse

of trauma materialized 

holding the black puddle of

of socialization 

an eyepatch

the terms start stirring

my mirror phase

my mom’s body

the chat rooms

some heinous checkpoints

of dismissing my 

healthy body 

with the solid mask

of function and
rocklike love

also as well

I keep getting this
baby feeling
in my new apt
like, I am one






I like how in certain settings
“sugars” is a unit
how many sugars?
it cracks me up





I dreamt about quiet lanky H
who says “woooo”
who loves coffee, watches,
and puting beads in the fish tank
I dreamt that she was a vampire
and I woke up heartbroken

The Butterfly Is Implied

The Butterfly Is Implied

Jacob playing his set 

giant clam shell hands 

illuminated from below 

the space between each finger on the keyboard

is like the rippled edge of a shell

like Venus emerges from

between songs he gives a treatise on existing 

linking so many symbols

masks, larva (the butterfly is implied)

how we are nothing but each other 

I am what I have

and I think of

my hearts not in me, it’s where they all are

he also says

don’t shit talk on death, it’s the special sauce that makes everything taste delicious

and I feel so connected in that moment

so alive for a second

I can’t help how sentimental I am

am I foolish

for making the connections 

symbols and signs so comfortable and juicy

I used to draw mask after mask

and I was larva, of course

Green Wave is a song after Jamie’s Green Wave

I recently found the poem of his by the same name that must have been the basis for the song

its about surfing

he also compares himself to a spider in the ocean

in a way eerily similar 

to the way my Green Wave does

I can’t help it

the knot in my throat at those synchronicities

I resent being treated young and foolish 

by the practical people around me

it’s crazy that we are older now

than Jamie ever was

to be older than a big brother

death is the special sauce 

I worry about my knot throat ways

what if they could they tip 

into an illness

like my mom’s, like Jacob’s mom’s

I feel so abstract so often 

nothing behind my face

can’t grasp the physical enough 

to stay in

or hang out

I will never know enough 

about books or basketball 

flowers or history 

and I worry about the egoism of art

I want to be the heartbalm

I want to be the stairstep

I want to be all of them, out there

reflect beauty back at the world  

it’s all there and there’s nothing there

I want to be free

but I love how fences look, too

just moments, just glimmers, right?

the ocean in Santa Cruz

the butterflies in the trees

on the way to meet my sister’s baby

the sparkling arc 

a spiral continues

and I think of Jamie’s quote about how

deciding the world is too sad to bring children into 

just allows it to be so

and how we have to continue to believe

that we can live and laugh in the sun

and, anyway

the sun is the best artist 

July b storm/love letter

I want to be joined by her.

expensive velcro

walking up a grassy hill at dusk

up and down some grassy hills

to arrive at a twinkling vista

tidy and warm

marzipan layers master crafted

treats in convincing shapes

a coloring book

filled in with chimes

I want to linger against her 

most delicate bangers

simple and perfumey

by the way 

I weep at each bullet point

Do you like the way it feels to be asleep?

read her tracklist like a beauty supply

from the parallel universe 

studded with colder verbs

and elegant trappings

Things Just Die

so merrily but a dream

joke's on him, probably

</3

drooping spirals 

My Vagabond's Book

gray vs zest

the shimmy light on buildings 

don't you hate when the turn signal 

jams a bit like you hurt it?

I drive bad and slow to take pics in this light

wind chimes, metal flowers, a weber grill chained to a fence

abruptly pull over to visit Colonial Iron Works

favorite storefront

a big display window (with its own weird victorian roof)

proudly baring a symmetrical presentation

of stair railings and a gate, painted white

a beautiful installation

I love it because it's like jewelry for buildings

there is a long driveway on the left side it turns out

bricks and dusted over warehouse windows

leading to a parking area and the entrance on the side

gravel and a fence in the back right up against the train tracks

there is a minivan parked there 

with four kids in it?

waiting for their ironworker dad to get off work?

no one at the front desk, dusty windows

all the high counters and walls are 1970s brown 

nothing hung up, no pictures or weird certificates

just shadows cast by the serifs, swirls and flowers

even though I logically know

it's impossible for me to remember

that after the garbage feeling 

comes another daisy moment

the spicy difference between 

gray and 

zest 

that I can't control

makes me believe in

brain chemistry

like today 

looking at a metal flower

is different than yesterday or tomorrow

but maybe it's not just me

the dogs at the park act differently

smiling, playing nicely, the conditions are right

I take my trip group to the contemporary art museum

and everyone is in the best mood

greeting Linda the security guard like an old friend

all three exhibitions are fucking beautiful
a rush, a wave


keep the daisy feeling
longer

**** ******* & yet

after one therapy session
I was bored
and out
45 bones
so now I'm soaking up
the new student trials
of the new neighborhood
yogahaus vinyassa classe
packages there is
a sunglasses bitch
with several beverages
showing me her stomach
Me
what else was I thinking

adding a can of fish to
the vegan noodles
I will always choose
corner of any bed or
classroom any bite
should be a corner

* *** ***** **** *******
** * ********* ***
that night
aware of my patchy lipstick
and fresh pimples
singing for who
just dropping the mic
smirking drinking
grapefruit
the glow of my list,
hiding in it
life in my list
referencing it
to die in my diary
dear Livy...

catch me
splintering
from the gaggle
everyone's afflictions
blurring
and yet I text
and text
& yet & yet
it's mesh

it seemed to be
a whole thing
a puffy, simple
bubble moment
where he noticed me
and we talked
kept tabs
you cut your hair
where are you
gonna be tonight

easy, here

the woman trying
so hard
to chew with her mouth closed
or is it just in her blood
the make up
imagine food falling out
my heart breaks the same
falling down
simple steps
running out
of ways to say it
thumps

the ladies who
try to look better than
even the world
the background sucks
-- not nature, but
the suckerdom is major
and never fails to shock
my softcore system

the mountain is beautiful
kind of small
like a pocketbook

& basic system:

you live and then you die
so you might as well be happy
try to argue, ha
I cry

something I do, taking
something away from who I am?
never

the drawings
the pictures
the morning dew on my phone
revolting

I think again of this certain moment
before being awake
when thoughts are irrelevant
distant, passing clouds
tomorrow's weather

when traveling
when reeling

to wake up empty

imagine this poem
wilting
or finishing itself
in scraps
the spindly shreds
of collage, swept
into the trash

the border of a sticker sheet

Tiring/Cool Process

I'm laughing but
feeling fat youth teacher
with comfortable footwear
discreet, some remnants of
style: bleached socks,
several piercings, a stud-
my new name is
contagious
down the line
Mrs (!)
Turtle
duck duck
turtle
Mrs. Turtle
they call me
my sagging
heat-tech turtleneck
holes in the elbows
under the dress
how much more
discreet can I be
and for how much
longer?
we did just learn
tools for blending/
how slow and steady
wins the race and
I do have new
running shoes
now will I dance
or eat

Angel's Laundromat

dream about walking around downtown Oakland
felt like Beijing
lots of convenience stores w/ elaborate
displays
mirrored towers with
goods for sale on each tier
kinda like the boardwalk game
where you throw hard baseballs
at glasses on rotating displays
movie theaters with mirrored marquees
Broadway had two segments
Regular Broadway and Freek Broadway
which started after an angle in the road
I turned onto Freek Broadway and the waters edge
was right there
the dark bay rising, waves lapping a beautiful beach
sunset moving, I got out my phone to take a pic
the water rushed up to my feet through
the ice plants surprising me
nearly dropped my phone
I talked to someone on the street about
how growing up there it used to be more green
like global warming dried it up




I have a recurring destination in my dreams
it's always a little different but it's
an inn at the end all the beaches in Santa Cruz
there is this old inn, turn of last century look
brick/stone castle looking old timey resort
like the Sutro Baths in SF kind of
one time I went to a store on the ground floor
to buy a greencard? they also sold jeans and undershirts
one time I went to restaurant there, like Italian fancy type
it is a destination I know so well like I lived there
back in time





the way Santa Cruz hugs the curve of the coastline
is kind of like Naples
on the map

A Disability History of the United States

I like when people ask
What time have you got?
Like they’re acknowledging
it’s different for everyone

back pain dance

Stretch your arms straight out
from your shoulder sockets
Out on either side of you
Like an airplane
Make small circles
With your hands
Keeping everything rigid
Strengthening the shoulders in the sockets
Do this for a while
Circling both forwards and backwards

Then
Bend your arms at 90 degree angles
Elbows parallel to the floor
Palms facing front
And rotate your torso and arms
Left
Then right
Swinging back and forth
With your legs staying in place
Feet hip distance apart
Try it while
Moving your elbows to different heights
Above and below

funk wines

raisin with a floral curl
the sexy strip of
red carpet
to the kitchen
my ass feels huge
delivering the flaky
butter bread shes loves
the hefty furniture

is the bowl food safe is
the wall paint safe
poisoned is the lifer
making people eating
feel consume-y safe

to talk spiritual-y
in an interview
or a crit, always
beating around
the burning bush
as if it's not central
as if I have anything
else?
-
 -
  -
qualifiable
to offer

it's just some kind of
Craft, she can tell you
what it's like but mostly
how well it works

exhausted by the casting
I arrange the representative
chunks, the proof
is in the puzzle she can
tell you it pays off
with no need to blend in
to the nighttime restaurant
I can't dress clean
stress, free
the skin on my knees

Here My Love

sadly everything 
is spending money still
everything
both fun and not
so thoroughly embroiled in it
mechanized
a cog in the neighborhood 
in the city in the state 
in the country in the world
remember those children's books,
ZOOM? no words just drawings
zooming out and out and out

in the dark AM driving to work
Friday, soft day
all the dusty rectangular holes 
that were chiseled in the 
road on my commute route
for pipe maintenance? who knows
were filled will soft tar
driving over them finally 
was like a bandaid 
heart balm 
for my emo soul

a perfect curve match

the first days in a new apt
new neighborhood
are absurd like a dream
getting into bed
on the ground, no frame yet
looking up from the floor
at the height of the windows
like, do I live here?
is this allowed?
interfacing with new
faces on the street, like
may I walk here?
is it ok?

everything in our
apt is a color
table cloth - red
bathroom - yellow
yoga mat - green
dishes - blue
glasses - rainbow
brim when I look

the curved walls are
just the right amount of
playful but not intrusive
we keep getting things
for cheap and free
a desk a table
everything fits so
satisfying
the backs of the chairs
are a perfect curve match
with the round table top

the chairs from a front yard in rural PA
on the way back from camping in spring
there were tons of them
standing and laying sideways
in long green grass by a mailbox
pressing the grass down to show
the darker underside of the blades
you know that summer feeling
...I want to lay down in the grass
but we have to get back to town...
'70s saloon looking chairs
laying in the grass like
covered wagon cast offs

Dose Park

what about my fantasies
of moist climates
wine cellars where
mushrooms grow
on corks

what's my problem
wanting to fuck all
the wet landscapes
at certain times of day

the whole park was my eye
misty and low

and I want to run into
some kind of hug
but I won't call

I see me
a winter character
puffy coat
here for the last time




the park
it is my eye and also
Mima, all of it
she's the entire place
and I'm hit anew
for the ___ time

I want to ask her how
much she liked this park
as much as me?

I've always run here
from home run away
or biked in any weather
looking for a hug but also
for me




what's an unbroken lap?
the fog today is big but sheer
like it's only for the park
outlined by the path





here is where the mushrooms --
here is where the trees
animate, in the hot green (past)
all the points on the path
have these strings




the day of a late flight out
is something like someone
correcting my posture
with a string pulling up
but more like an abduction

something that's unbroken?

Small Nature

the softly rippling pond

reflecting winter trees 

in the water

the branches have small berries

how much damage would I do 

sliding down this small fall

the sloped rock is just so

metallic and inviting

I trip on a stone

at the same moment

Tara's S pops in my ear

I come here every day

oh if I could

new year same ish

oh how I love
being at the mercy of me
until I become suicidal
which means turning
the word over and
dragging my feet up the stairs
hair all bad

I took Cinnamon to the vet
at 4:30 pm
does the light stay any longer
since the solstice?
a minute or so I can sense
the tiniest slice of time
the whole thing feels
a bit dusty, Mima gone
Cinnamon age 14
a domestic medium hair
they feel her belly and
she's patient and
I'm proud,

and I'm grown

it was one of those beautiful,
short winter days
that slip away like
a sip of water

wake up in the morning
the sky spotted, shiny
something on the other side
run the tap a sip and
it's evening,
I resign

M.S.Ed.

researching Masters in Ed graduate programs
is making me want to cut my own head off
like just snap my own neck
and watch my head roll away
because I don't think I can do it
but also rises in me
the desire for those letters of the alphabet
tacked on to my name
that dignified U Penn
to elevate my fumbly jumbly
Sarah Lawrence BA
fuck
I really hate school

Tetilla

I want to write down the names 

of all of the mountains around Santa Fe

Sangre de Cristo

Cerillos

Ortiz

La Tetilla

Jemez

and the hill to find our house by

Cerro de la Cruz

our hill

as a teenager

mom could march out the back door

through cholla and desert sage

straight up to the top of the rocky hill

without a single property or fence in her way

now you have to walk along the frontage road

past scrappy houses

yards with the big gates open

and the dogs in them knowing not to leave

and lots of trailers for sale

to get to our hill

our hill, our dreams

my grandma named the house

Nuestros Sueños

so corny but it’s like Mrs. Ramsay

in To The Lighthouse

musing about seeing oneself in inanimate things

finding solace in that

claiming the beams of light from the lighthouse 

as herself, her beams

I want to be connected to those mountains

I want to share something with them

their immutability

their command of the landscape

they belong there, and I so want to belong

I like that Tetilla means breast

but the shape isn’t a crazy huge breast

just a slight one like mine

it’s affirming that it's...

worthy of the name breast?

and I think, of course this place

would be affirming of that