you want surrender,
I want to war with peace itself.
peace is uninterested, unimpressed, and unmoving.
peace is an even number waiting to be divided.
peace says til death do us part.
peace says stay put.
peace says you don’t need to look at the dead, stagnating under feet.
peace says there is no price too high.
peace says all this in a measured response to my scream.
throat scabbed over from repeated battle cries,
“never surrender.”
anatomy of a body without lies
feet that tell you when to get off them,
legs that say, hey bending me that way will hurt down the road,
hips that tell the world how to treat you.
ears hear that whistle in the dark and say “run,”
vulva that speak of shame.
a uterus that begs him to stop.
arms that say how often they really need to hug,
hands that want credit for the words they create,
ribcage shouts “I’m so tired of protecting this tender heart.”
mouth that stays silent, because in truth no one is listening.
Earth is broken,
I want to leave
find me
waiting
my disassembled launch pad
buried under dot matrix print-out instructions
tools
somewhere
beam me up and away,
might be stranded here on
a planet that mocks
me
coordinates hazy
but that’s a risk worth taking
to fly up and away
because
Earth is broken,
I want to leave
find me
find me
doomed beautiful thing
after Hal Fischer’s “Bobby at the Beach”
his tenuous hold on life as delicate as any doomed beautiful thing beach soothing rough edges, grinding rock to sand, and sand to dust, and dust to skin. cotton in negative, a whirlwind packed into those pockets, silver dreams blown across the waves. grinding dreams to ash, and ash to stardust, and stardust to glitter. a sparkling dissipation across oceans and he will come again to this beach leaving bread crumb trails of his longings until his pockets are empty.
after Olga Rozanova’s “Abstract Composition (Color-painting)”
please keep your hands and arms and legs inside the vehicle at all times please keep your thoughts and insights inside your pretty little head please keep tabs on your sensuality please keep your story straight please keep up appearances please keep please keep keep away keep breathing keep breathing keep breathing keep your weight off my shoulders I’m keeping score I’m keeping my middle fingers in the sky
soft is white sheets fresh from the dryer—
is eyelids closed and contemplative—
is fingers traveling down.
soft is not the quiet of mourners—
is not found in holy books—
is not a butterfly wing, too delicate and fragile to touch.
soft is a sigh—
is the sand that caresses the space between toes—
is a dying rose petal, brown edges curling inward.
soft wants to fill all the empty space—
wants to hold hands with the devil—
wants to dive down into the depths.
soft is ragged page of a favorite book—
is the wind that brings change—
is the heart of a poet.
Hey friends! I’m have big news to announce; my brand new chapbook with Bottlecap Press! I’ve been working very hard on this for the past year and it’s finally here to share with you all! This chapbook, “bubblegum black” is about love of others and self. I’m so proud of this work and I’m so proud to share it with you. You can purchase it today at https://bottlecap.press/products/bubblegum
the alchemy of us
(after e.e. cummings)
what is it about you and I
the chemistry that we do
exponential scratches on a page, not
unknowable, but a perspective only we know.
an alchemy of what
you are, what we are, what it
is,
skin inked with equations about
cellular reactions within me, within you
combustion that
awakens the us, and also closes
what would you say if I told you that I dream of you and
in those dreams, your smile opens
me, lays me bare, not only
removing my clothing but something
entirely more, you see written deep in me
a language engraved on my bones that your mouth understands
you read in my entrails the
gospel of my voice
you steal my breath and use it as your
own, hold a magnifying glass to my eyes
and inside the retina behold all that is,
all that was, and you tell me that this dream is
a holy offering of water from a well deeper
than the blood that pours from our joined veins, and redder than
the petals of a thousand roses
