Tuesday, February 25, 2014


excuse me
i’m in love with you
when i knew that i’d lost you,
i felt unafraid of death for the first time in my life
because why not
i’d lost you
if this sounds melodramatic
it is because
i’m in love with you
it is because
it is so big that i couldn’t see it without zooming out
and if it took me a long time to zoom out
it is because
i am a fucking idiot
wading in my shallow shit
calling it deep
also i am slow
like winter but more demented
and more in love with you
call me out
don’t call me beautiful
i’m sitting on the moon
perched in a crater
worried about joy
where did it go
and why would i bury it
come back just to
make your joke about murdering me
and i’ll remember to hold it this time
i’ll remember to wake up
with my body in the morning
making concerted efforts
to exhume the joy


self-fulfilling prophecy unfulfilling 

if i hold very still nothing new will happen
the past will not have happened
nothing will be the only thing that is
nothing has touched my heart in weeks
it is appropriate that nothing should touch
my heart because it never touches back until
everything is burning up
and it smolders in a stupor
in its stupidity
in its unbearable lack of foresight
in its commitment to fear and nothing else
it asks to be alone indefinitely and promptly
breaks at a million miles an hour
it doesn’t have the audacity
to hold what it loves
it doesn’t have the audacity
to trust that it can keep
what it holds
it has no real wisdom
the only thing it trusts
is that anyone it could love
has the wisdom
to forget it
and all the sacred things
fall by the wayside
i believe all the things we cherished
simmer in some part of me
just as they die in you
and an instability can’t help but be born
at the disposal site
of all the sacred things
what matters if this does not matter
who knows me if you do not know me
i know no one because of how well i have known you
i can know no one because i know
that you can never know someone well enough
to exempt them from becoming their absence
how to continue in light of this information
extract a family from the silence
i walk through the town
waiting for an interaction that doesn’t leave me feeling
like an empty bag
i wait to emerge from anonymity
to meet with a familiar light
i hide in my chest
while my mouth does the talking
i am hibernating in spite of all the shameless unreality

Friday, July 12, 2013


a woman and her daughter were sharing a small bathroom stall in the public restroom in the grocery store.
i was in the larger one next to them.

the little girl said "mommy, when i touch buddy's tummy i can feel her claws."

the mother responded, "are her claws out when you touch her tummy?"

"no," said the girl.

the mother, confused, suggested, "those are just her nipples."

the little girl, frustrated, insisted "no...", and the mother said "do you mean that while you touch her tummy you also touch her paws?"

"YES," the little girl said, so relieved to be understood finally, so unaware that a stranger was six feet away, enjoying her frustration while relating thoroughly.

Tuesday, May 7, 2013

book update

this is a book update for the few people who have asked about when my book is going to be done. i originally wanted it to be finished by the end of the winter, however, this didn't happen for a few reasons. i think i became overwhelmed by the very prospect of writing a book, which is to say i had expectations as to what the book would accomplish, and those expectations were so great that i became intimidated and discouraged and lost interest in the project in general. then i became concerned about my motives for writing the book. then i became obsessed with what the book shouldn't be about.

i want to feel good about the book.

i haven't given up on the book but i am not going to say "it will be done at x time." it'll be done when it's done, and if anyone wants to read it i'll be very flattered.

thanks and love

Tuesday, February 26, 2013


unmade bed seems more like a symbol than a bed,
due to it being in the very center of the room.
and then combined with the fact that
you’re missing your self from it,
and i have all this space where you will no longer
conduct your bodyhood.

when I walk into the room,
it calls out to me even more so than usual,
but calling out as a symbol, and not a bed.
what it calls out as a symbol of, I can’t be sure.
but it demands to be taken very symbolically, and it smells
like you, some variety of gone, some illusions
and some beautiful ones.

the time you said “no one eats pussy in heaven”
and I frowned.
you woke me up sniffling incessantly into the back of my head,
I said “you should blow your nose.”
“too sleepy,” you said.
“you should really blow your nose."
“I don’t think so,” you said.
“I’m in bed with the sniffle super villain,” I said,
and then you licked my armpit.

absolutely nothing needs to make sense in the bed,
and furthermore nothing should.
I see now that the bed is a symbol of being endlessly enthused
about not making sense,
about pouring water on you for no reason and laughing for almost every reason
after I've maliciously accused you of pissing in my bed,

about defiantly refusing to let reason inform anything in us.
we most triumphantly "[stuck] it to the man" when i was suffocating you
with my pillow and you pretended to die,
but my happiness when you sprung back to life was extremely real.

you said I left a hand print in the snow bank of your heart;
I peered at you and wrote it down,

Thursday, November 1, 2012


hi friends
this is just a note to say that novel premise is going on hiatus while i work seriously on my first book of poems, which i hope to finish this winter.

much love to all of you