providence

wet hat first we

travel acrostic but

so down

our same shoes

the glass house

to unsee it now

for fiction I'm

dumb w music

spread out in love

around your bread

rising the pigeon 

sounds I drool to

compute beyond 

pleasure for sport

look other ways 

you say your ears

close like steel

volts/my computer

game approach to

recall-- the soft 

pound of every

water the drops

now are joke all

heart shaped 

kitty cat and

anyways 

another last light

its rectangle movie

w holes/in dis

array but 

the ballet of 

compersion

the movies

I swim out past the waves 

and bob till my fingers turn yellow

looking east and then west

it never gets old

being salted and dusty

heavy roses in the wind

the thing is I am very untied now

an un-caught drift, no container

biking up hill

past the business that sells glass

how beautiful to specialize in something 

so clear and sharp

basketball cigarettes rat slap

the slick green table 

Molly the bartender

I get to my car as the clock strikes 10

I sit with the door open

one foot on the road 

looking up at the bell tower

M says

the good news is people have been 

trying to figure out what to do when summer ends 

since at least as long as I’ve been around

like maybe it doesn’t this time

near palm desert

can’t release the windy night
circling it
holding out
the right/wrong of 
ajar my drama 
w the door

can’t let it go/I feel like
you’re wind

May, June

I like to wear my dad’s clothes when we reunite

         this evening 

my instinct to suit up 

in 3 pieces

to delete

the word date 

in total

the way it feels beside you in the car

the classic rock of it and now 

the balloon

you being a heart

breaks like talc

x 2

checks out

I've left myself in so many ways
once the jester of affirmation

but one taste of you & 

I'm watching my

self swim in the 

pool from the 

chair

"...whatever cute shape I created before sleep that became a trap my leg out papers on the bed/hot"

1

dreams of good people being

slow at their jobs/loved ones

who get memos and take 

no action, the low battery 

business/backing it up 

at the post office 

in velvet ropes 

and   further parties

zero breaks 

from the 

crew 

the job I quit before

starting I walked

through her 

front yard 

was half pool

my wet boots

a children’s caterpillar

some friendship advice

just me and my 

alphabet soup 

as the Joy

my spreadsheets for it ^

how to allocate to you

and you

2

in my dream this random bitch

who I assumed secretly 

hated me was really 

supportive of me 

when I expressed

how I had decided to 

experience something

a certain way/a peaceful 

montage played

throughout our phone call

3

next it was my birthday 

and I told yves how it was 

my birthday and how

most of the day I'd forgotten

and they held me for it

then my 2nd grade crew 

(Rasheed and Drew)

arrived on a different tail wind

our historical trio of

baby legislature rubber 

balls in the empty classroom 

chairs stacked/vague

responsibility plus

the joy of our sort 

of sanctioned game

4

I knew well you were in the room 

I wanted to end the party/

cap it at 1 night but 

I was with mom so

no chiseling of 

timelines

we walked through a flooded city

water at our hips, behind a row of tall

matching people the vibe was actually 

high and mom stepped playfully on a 

fire hydrant 

u shape

 

friday night

notions of service 

stung by your priority

your pre k energy 

puzzled by Jazz 

when it's glass 

for some reason 

a table saw

the same serious songs

for summer/i was feeling

all new nikes

a premise that can run

all hourly 

no mountains this morning

even wet, cold water

but the way it doesn’t rain

in the arms of a 180

we saw yellow icons on the horizon

various IOS representation 

their respective glitches

you kept asking if

i dreamed every

15 minutes

the sun baked sage

i walk here

the constant soft shaking

your brand of alarm

your arms/they're

long corners

the word came first

a human being is not 

the calm at the center of the whirlpool

but the whirlpool itself

i.e. a pattern

and a pattern is a message

and I don't know what the f that means

but I do know it's poetry

Corralitos

trying to allow for

the multiple versions of reality

fashion a multi-tool brain

a mobile-esque consciousness

I like to eat with dirty hands

a navel orange off the tree

juice streaking soil up my wrists

sardines on saltines

most inside

scratch art clouds, walking 

on the earth's surface today

like a boat you said, SS

Patience (!) I'm suss of 

it (patience) you said 

you've seen it curdle

fuck reminding big

style archeology 

heart break me

better cuz this 

graceless ballet

look back at (it)

the sprinkler's 

rainbow you know 

me your cinderblock

it's January 

and next it's 

January in loops 

my private suffers 

our sestina 

our globe

miss snow

her peril and

ambiance 

regular poem

when midday has the vibe

of late afternoon

I know I'm in for it

I know I know 

nothing

covid and the wind

still blows

I consult my team,

smoke the crumbs 

on my table

the night takes every 

possible turn

the clouds interlock

in questions 

soothing to 

mind loss

I said I'm unhinged

you said nah half hinged

you said you never know 

if someone is feeling 

cloudy or sunny about you

tomorrow the clouds are verbs

the wet, white roses

in so many pictures

I can't tell our difference 

when the moon is right there

in the morning

the question of sleep

my dreams are 

dark daytime 

anyway 

a bad theater

I'm undone because

(half done) the sun 

is doing something

you had this snack 

that was an egg 

with a fig in it 

you said should I 

eat it now or later? 

and I said now

because you're glowing 

like the egg, now

revering 

our curveball

this gentle evening 

turning myself in 

my dream there was

water and you were 

comforting me

and it was just 

enough of you 

to say so

your calendar

 
christmas eve sunset is evil 

knowing

the yellow break through 

almost foreign

the unbothered city below 

(gotham) 

it's like so

fall on me

you can see the curve

*

christmas day is clean with

baby element

the sky with clouds is only blue

and only white 

skeleton woman

all over the place

picking up the phone like

cooking/finding 

freedom (within)

if life is the wine

between the jug 

and the glass

and if I'm not wrong

becoming the lover

of your own nightmare?

to be touched well

the pain after 

without it

my miniature 

hectic nature

(a diorama)

cuz in the Big way

I want you to feel so good

so full of love and

if I can be involved 

the way she

smells like soap 

on the 3rd hug 

hUge dream

woke up from the mess

with a sore throat and

your name in my mouth

maya says to see it

as a wall hanging

other side

yesterday was strong

and crystal

mom asked

is this a rainy day

in LA

I said 

kinda yeah

manually giving

permission to

abstract relief 

today is lazy smooth

I wanna have sex

but 

eat sardines

☮

the mountain looks nice this morning 
clear with delicate sun
I’m thinking about you 

the way it's 

warm, dispersed

somehow 

the thinking is oiled

a serious calm settles

on this long edge

in the shape of

a question or

it calls up 

the peripheral alphabet

I clock my kinks 

for phonics,

periphery

it's a good day 

for gravity 

the red light 

at the mountain

Thursday in 3 

slow pieces

when it's done 

 

work between 2 pillows

and the clouds want to break

Thursday 

in the custody

of its own gentleness 

October 50th

long in longing

since

the cypress trees

at the top of the street

our walk,

the same one

I've been doing

vitamin D

at the bottom of the my bag

all of my M's

it's always October 

when time 

shovels

etc.

cherish the red lights

to work, and 

sometimes

cry quietly

at the mountain

pull up tunes from

point A

to roll thru

again I

pull up 

wet

question soup 2.0

what even is a relationship?

an envelope you step in and out of

consent to a mutual reality

something to see by, to see through

I sit on the bench over the beach 

with a cigarette as heavy as the ocean

little girls or are they little seals 

bobbing in the surf

this doing nothing

is who we really are

I want to see the flowers the way I saw them

I want to see the people they way I saw them

I want to hear the celestial music

see the higher order again

be better for the people I love

make them better too

october 14

normal person  after

opening a book 

this morning

the better 

to

                tackle       an intra

personal  workload 

volunteer my brain

to compute progress

   

  a slow typist

I sms,

I need love

songs with doorbells

in   headphones

the drums sound

         

        across the street

spread the word

evenly,

my contacts

eating 

alone

we compare

and contrast

but it's just

this   big evening

zoya

an ultrasound on my 
un-pregnant belly
it's the closest thing 

to tlc, despite our
small tussle
tell me, I said,
is it normal? 

she said she couldn’t tell me
she said, enjoy your weekend,
you’re young

how come my reactions 
are scrolls
I frowned 
for like
1 minute
of silence

harvest moon

my heart breaks something like
in half to not be Home 
in October 

I feel like cardboard instead

for the 8th time 
in sensory hell

sunday the student

on the verge of dying for poetry

again, the boring exorcism of hiatus 

looking back at the word bank

all shy

B said some poems just

walk away! 

like children

*

J died 7 years ago, today

a dark autumn night in NY

the hill we climbed 

with the news

*

today is a triangle

with an exclamation point inside

J says

we can't ever do what we want to do

anymore, that's the new secret club

today I go, 

what is a 7 years

a bouquet?

some off lights

reflecting the sun

the triangle with 

the exclamation point

extends,

encrypted

*

last Yom Kippur

I went to services in SF

where I met an old friend 

and her young dad

it was early morning

and the city was

bright gold

later we wrote

what we didn't need

on scraps of paper and

put them in a clear vase of 

tap water

for atonement, 

I brainstorm some pools in the area

*

the blood thing

is really more 

about draining

 

I fainted in the 

process of 

playing cool

they pushed a Kiss 

into my mouth and

squeezed me and

low key 

reprimanded me

the bad quiz on loop 

I can't see my own eyes!

or bite my own teeth

Dear P

I've been so out of touch with myself,

like forgotten how to be curious about my mind...

but last night I slept long and dreamed about a place with cabins:

many divided, yet thematic households on the property

I was performing there, maybe some type of festival

I had some romance with a blank man who was hard to love, because he was blank

a big group of us went for a walk into the dark forest/mountains, on a sort of ridge

beneath us was a rushing river, it got darker and darker as we walked

I wondered if it was fire smoke but it was so easy to breath (mist)

shadowy figures (boys) effortlessly jumping off rocks into the river 

the sight of big, moving water almost brought me to tears

gay

habits are

           bad

           this week

I’m backhanding 
my forehead 

and 
thickening plots 

spying 

  on the
    plume’s return

carrying 

the annual 
    haunting of home

the sad memory
of water &
when she told me
to be like it 
[water]

we’re on the couch 
at the airport hotel
she’s soft, high

she saw heaven

and isn’t scared

for the living

acquired taste 

to the point 

of   no return 

you just

lay there by the juniper

deep 

in the practice of surrender/

while the moon

eclipses

lowercase fear

just like

Together

"we" cuz 

I'm getting bigger

*

if Longing

would shed itself 

like a snake and 

surprise me

...

a long river city 

whose architecture 

reps desire 

and at once 

resolve

her knee highs

her healthcare

...

ʎpɐǝʇs ʞɔoɹ

today the kids made tissue swords 

exerting themselves in the ash

the 3 of them, literary

windswept

the dust bowl

the cul de sac

the boudarylessness of
blessings, curses

talking fences/feeling

nothing       moderate, mega 

in lieu of     stretch in lieu of

cutting

the train assembles

poems slipping and 

sliding the dead friend

with the past tense name

just wanna be at the club

with the mosh pit the

mash up where 

at 3 am 

dystopia 

checks out

skywriting by jane pauley

I cry looking at photos of great grandma Sally

because she's got the eyes

the eyes that are 3000 years old

sitting on the deck with Dad

swarm of crows flying in synch 

vanishes into the fog

Grandma tells me about a time 

Mom painted herself green, put tinfoil 

on her head, and went to the bar

open field with a window

open field with a window

open field with no child

don't call it an episode 

I'm not your TV

my heart isn't actually inside me

it's where they all are

ambrette pipette

cool blue + tie dye = soft sky

looking up from the open box of Kayla's backyard

I see power lines and think sheet music

base + heart + head = the symphony of a perfume

the white planks of that balcony's railing are piano keys

dancing + apples = dappled

the bamboo is the wind section

the sun is soprano

soft sky + full = skull

the clean flat cement might be mezzo

and the wind chime is implied

alphabet soup

the night I sat on the balcony 

watching the moon cross the sky

Jamie’s ghost touched everything in the apartment

turned my pairs of shoes at perpendicular angles

propped up the sheep brain dissection kit

scooted out my desk chair

it was so subtle

I could have done it myself

what's the difference between 

hallucination and metaphor

seeing the story over the story

the world behind the world

I don't want to say too much

but something I can tell you now;

it's a lie 

that nothing rhymes with orange

the buddha quality

of a stuffed animal

how two dots and a line 

make a gracious face

I was sure he was in my bathroom

staring at that tum on the tile floor

and I realized how trauma 

is like schrodinger's cat

the keloided narratives that stay fucked up

for as long as the door is closed

I keep seeing a soft sky full of tiny letters 

like alphabet soup

and the afterimage of a cool blue fairy

pepper's ghost

and there's something extra 

we're elaborating on now

about washer women

gossips and yentas

about twins, togetherness

about the tree and the stone