05 writing

mother became, mother become

mother’s become a god fearing believer of jesus christ and the bible
i stare into a swamp
and question whats underneath
3x jumping mullet fish
alligator mother and her cavern dug baby gators
could it be i am looking at sky tonight from real land?
and then sneaky raccoon walks out the shadows reaching into our bottlebrush tree, his two hands ten fingers on hind legs
i am sticky with the earth
all night – carolina’s frogs laugh at me, one person of the people.
what is it i hold?

the crowned night heron revealed itself in the daylight
breaking a stick off the oak to roost
herons must know what to do in this life
born, breed and die.
the pope dead the day after easter
the wasp said its time to leave
the frog sheltering in a bluebird house is under persecution in frogland and
now i hold this green frog.
i hold this green frog
i am holding this green frog now.

i saw this cloud
it was shaped like an angel and i thought of you,
only you.
am i so far from angelic?
cloud me is storm shaped
my cloud it siphons water up into the atmosphere and facilitates an earth flood.

mother became a god fearing believer of jesus christ and the bible
her earth is a flat one with ice walls.
god take me up in a helicopter and drop me over the ice wall, i want to see.

am i the cats poseidon?

My cat waits by the sink for the water to start
I always turn it on
does he think I have some sort of magic touch
to make the water pour from faucet

morton salt factory

all of my favorite masters have been to jail
and i am a criminal defense lawyers daughter.
my cheeks red in the mirror
i have cried again
because i watched the shoes laced – i’d say they are your favorite, walkin outta my door.
i didnt want to wash the “when it rains, it pours“ morton salt glass that last touched your lips
but i washed that fucking cup and it shattered into the sink
speaking to me now in fragment
“en ains, pours.”
what a funny joke!

i am a mirror poem
born for your reflection
i am a shattered mirror poem
ready for your elimination
7 years of bad luck

I sleep with my guitar in bed

Don’t cry for me I am not alone because I sleep with my guitar in bed
wood frame chosen company
Weighing down the mattress a bit
I know the lonely people cuddle their pillows
Well I like the idea of a stiff sound machine made of tree next to my resting body
i have to sleep so very still – as if not to
I’d kick it off the bed onto the floor ,
it’s great casket practice.

Crash BANG

Bad upstairs neighbor that I am.
Stubbing my toe , pacing around at 2,3,4am, smoking half- inside,
banging out nothing profound on my vintage 1980s casiotone keyboard
it has a sound button that can only change between
Synth and funky clav
I’ve lost all the other features
Who is going to show up and rewire my electronics
I would like more options

i killed

i killed marianne faithfull in january after buying her record in the east village on a cold night
i was made to play god and killed deformed kittens in a dream
i killed love in my apartment
and i killed want in a prophetic gospel to save me
because there is always room to be even lonelier.

so i made a carpet beetle shrine

i found thousands of carpet beetle husks on my altar
They’ve been worshipping to some carpet beetle god to find my altar full of hair , bones , feathers , rocks , memorabilia i made space
to – whatever I am praying for
All the fibers a carpet beetle larvae could dream to eat and become husk for
what else do I not know about
in the corners of my home

tv dinner

kid cuisine and hungry man in the frozen section
you are a hungry man and I am only a kid cuisine
Frolicking the grocery store
The only two people who exist
I have an eating disorder and you will want to lose weight just like me
We eat the tv dinner
because we are supposed to

three-fifteen

the ides of march
there are screens everywhere for all who can see
i am in a new open concept mta train covered in paint
wearing white gloves i cut the tips off
am i cosplaying Michael jackson
broken left fourth toe
i miss my closed concept independently operating train car ecosystem.
my black cat wishing me luck
i find one of his whiskers on my wardrobe.

buzzcut

thinking about asking to touch it with my hands – rubbing them across like its fresh cut grass.
its the first image that came into my head this morning.
theres a scene in donnie darko where donnie is talking to his therapist about how he likes thinking about fucking alot, he starts reaching his hand towards his crotch under hypnosis and she snaps waking him
and i havent touched anyone in seven months
so i feel exactly like this.
maybe i can ask if you kept any of your curls. i will not have anything to do with them. i will imagine the idea of putting them on my alter, wearing them in a locket like a victorian.
moving slowly and i want it faster.
i guess you are right. i am intense.
i taste great brand of tomato ketchup on my table at the diner.
i want to print it on a tshirt for myself. offer myself up as good advertising. sell MY BRAND
the girl that wants to fuck - weirdos only.

the american dream

i believe in destiny. i was told so when i missed the bus.
opportunity arised, taught the afghanistan horse games, buzkashi.
I said the american dream is dead to my new friend and he showed me the horses on his phone trying to get the dead calf into a circle.
i talked about navy graduation. they put hats on them. in stiff movements -- swearing allegiance against the enemy.
its an american nerd camp.
brother tells me on the sidewalk that its his first time not wearing a hat outside in months. a demerit
my dad tells me me to join the navy...it would be the greatest thing i ever do
and when i said i could get sexually assaulted he said
better to get a lifetime check and get honorably discharged than to keep living my life as an artist.
i watched him cry today with the same eyes as mine.
blue eyes crying the same as mine.

M

I carved a M into my ankle with ink for the all great M’s of my life.
a final sign off for my autopsy down the line. Mother, Melvin, Madison, M.
I am on a train towards Rhode Island with all great train lovers on their valentines day train.
I am in my own bind. I left my cable release cord in NY so how am I going to fuck myself in front of the large format camera. last ditch effort to make art this winter with my own body
. driving by connecticut, maybe i could move here to finish a masters by the water.
i keep laughing, imagining myself showing up to brothers navy graduation dressed as a sailor.
Bridgeport. they combined two structures and called it a town. the language apparatus of a toddler naming their first dog.
I think I have to wait a few more years before seriously considering becoming a nun. Can you masturbate in the cloisters? it would be a lifestyle that stops costing me money.
hebrew national hot dog on the train like a real american. I used to make my mom cut up hot dogs into bite size pieces or I wouldnt eat them. its not really sexy to eat a hot dog on a train...

cont...

gods greatest writers burn the pen in solitude.
when I have a porch I want one of the lights to flicker.
I want there to be an occassional cat passing through or staying for a while and I want to feel deeply loved rocking back and forth on my rocking chair by someone.
somewhere on the internet they said the lettuce is killing us.
I will never have the new england frail mother build.
three men in navy suits at the irish pub talking about aircrafts.
they are real and i am not.
pretending to watch ice hockey on the television.

bodega violets

bella thinks my time is worth more money so its better to wait to get paid
for the right thing
so i scroll the browsers for whats next. and some days i get sidewalk opportunity.
when i am outside i want to be inside. when i am inside i want to be outside.

reversing roles.

when i was 10 i was emailing via yahoo, a beggar for love to a child actor.
i chase boys in my yard and out of my yard.
sometimes they dig a hole to get on the other side of the fence like my childhood dogs that ate a hole in the laundry room’s drywall to get away from my mothers reign, coming back covered in mud because it was pouring rain
and i buried this same dog in the backyard with goodnight moon and now i wait for the post office to produce their limited edition run of goodnight moon stamps because i need to add them to my collection.
and i am collecting for reasons unknown maybe so i can show and tell the revolving door of potential lovers in my living spaces.
my walls are dark brown because black walls would be unrealistic.i have bid on three hats on ebay over the past year so when i get asked at a party if i always wear hats i hesitantly say no, that it is just cold outside
but truth is i usually do wear hats and if i take this hat off my hair is all matted up into knots from my scarf and if anyone was to discover id be so embarassed about it! like when i kept dropping my scarf on the sidewalk or how i am always caught digging in my purse unable to find anything sometimes out of need sometimes out of nervousness.
i want to feed him violets again from a package lodged at the bottom of my bag.
the color lavender and the flavor laundry detergent.
i want to wash your and my mouth out with soap. i want to clean the words i salivate to until and unto time never fully promised.

three kings in chess

last day of the year.
its like there being three kings in a game of chess.
i heard it in my dream
im not sure the meaning
two jugs of milk on my right.
one small one large.
im in primary colors, navy tights, red wool skirt, yellow trench.
i tried to stop biting my nails this month for a lover. 3/10 grown.
30 percent successful.
im working on holidays this year - not a job , a reframing
one year single.
murdered all of my roaches in a few days time. clearing out the bugs.
my train back and forth to brooklyn is above water.
sitting next to milk. fresh milk. january 20th milk. half drank.

magic 8 ball

sunny in manhattan
i use a magic 8 ball website to direct my life because i have no idea what i’m doing.

i wish i was edward scissorhands

i was on the bed with too much silence. this time, me, the one without expectations. lighting candles and talking.
too old and too young
i watched edward scissorhands last night and cooked myself dinner. self-sufficient.
when your fingers are scissors you hurt everything you need to touch softly.
but i dont have scissors for hands.

living is awesome

Salvaging a sidewalk plant. I take it apart separate the soil from the roots
Into jars of water
four cups of coffee.
I walk outside in my pajamas to deliver a chicken tapestry. My neighbors carnal desires for me are blocked by a barking dog in an elevator.
Sundays ritual is a jazz show and I am too prideful to admit that i spent my week thinking about how to get them into my bed.
My fingertip is split open
Im like a plastic mannequin.
I need to be glued back together to stay still again.

sat in the exit row

I was the only one seated in the exit row. Fully committed, I read the manual fearing I'd touch the exit doors and not know how to operate the slide. Not sure how they allow untrained civilians to do this. Maybe everyone chooses overconfidence; agrees for the extra leg room. Tonight i leave my humble meager pauper life to live someone elses.
I am the cinder girl being introduced by the prince.

road journals - a fraction

10.8. 24

great flooding in my dream.
denial
seligman arizona.
mom thinks they are manipulating the weather
i am watching fox news at the roadkill cafe in their saloon
the subtitles keep sending strange messages
i wouldnt know if shot by the messenger.
i make it to california today
taxidermy staring through me at the roadkill cafe.
this is my fox news.

10.4.23

i left my diary in the pews,
feeling awfully strange, a sinners diary in a chapel overnight.
i have a cape now; i felt the monks might believe i was mocking them so i de-caped when i entered.
religious service at 6am.
alot of driving and conversation.
sunset with shades of green peeking through.
oddly enough intuition led me to the proper spaces i needed to be in, the ones i feared.
5 more days until i reach california.
another night sleeping with the holy bible.

8.13.23

blown off head deer
body with hole on the highway
led to intimate glimpses of two doe through a fence
grazing the pasture as the sun sets
the nature of a firefly
i shed some skin this summer
its peeling off of me

8.1.23

hawk flew in front of car
deer on the left
no guard rail
freedom in full fruit
attention
the road is quiet, isolate
theres two large lovers dining shirtless on an appalachian porch
two teens in a pick up truck grinding their tires into the road next to a gas station and dollar general.
sourcing my wooden frames and clown company
west vagina, virginia, marys land
in between shit stops or rest stops
goodwill with a wooden facade
im an ambassador to christ tonight in marlington, virginia
it is so silent except the rumbles coming from ted next door, my brother in christ tonight
devout snoring neighbor.
i bet hes talking to god in that room.
the sound of cars driving through the gravel is rainlike.

rabbit, rabbit!

the rabbit is freed from his box
when the magicians tricks dont work anymore
maybe he becomes hare stew
the witches spell undone
goose with a razor sharp jaw.

rash

came home to an empty house tonight.
i had a dream that a rash was covering, spreading
all over my body.
lines of red dots.
eating bagel in chelsea while tourists pose in front of project housing.
its a beautiful day. the weather is perfect even.

grooming

I used to be dragged out of the swimming pool to be groomed
Not in the bad way

To have my nails clipped on a cement step of a chlorinated hot tub
Dad would scrub the writing off my hands telling me to stop using pen on my body
the Ink is toxic
I’d play with the pool tiles and
because they kept falling into the deep end
I’d swim to their rescue
Bright blue

I never had the responsibility to shave dads back
That was for the boys
I’m sure the razors kept them up at night
But

I had responsibilities too
I stepped on his back and sat through many dinners where I was sitting across the table from someone I couldn’t know
I sat in different cars in the passenger seat on a road race home to mothers
Dad didn’t know what to do with a girl
but

clothe bathe and feed her
So I ate I wore and showered
Still
never clean enough
Hair not brushed or dry enough
I’m overeating or undereating
clothes conscious of my weight
the size made to fit a bigger or smaller frame
Bodies not mine

uncertain poems - published by dream boy book club

7.19.23

I used to send you postcards to your home…then to your mothers. Everywhere id go i would pick up a 4x6 souvenir paper
And write to the address I memorized.
I dont send you postcards anymore. I save them in a box to send to no one. Maybe i never sent them to anyone. You never wrote me back .
I think i wrote the mailbox.
i dont have your address now but i still think about the postcards i’d send you if i did. I hope you loved my california mail because im moving somewhere colder where the sun dont always shine.
I wonder if you feel a difference in the mailbox now that my cards have gone.My postcard box grows as time passes into years since i left that fall.
I save my blank postcards and you keep my sent postcards. I think in this way we are even.

1.17.24

I fear constantly that I am to fall through the floorboards of my apartment. replications of witchery on the television.
old wrinkled hags hunched over a brew, converting the pious monk into a lover.
I was developing ghosts in the bathroom perfectly shrouding a face; hand remaining. life is mere magic. why would it be any different in the case of a wayward film negative.
I had a thought earlier that life was fleeting.
It becomes most fearful when I am wanting.

7.13.24

Sleep paralysis in certains bed. I am in a nightmare located interior of an art gallery.
We cant have sex like normal people. its always four hours long.
Two freaks.
When you die there's nothing. its all darkness. i whisper over her body, eye contact. Brevity.
I left all of my rings on the nightstand and turned the car around for one more glance.
Eyes wide open.
A shared fear.
A girl like me can never have an easy goodbye.

7.30.24

A looming postcard never sent to its destination.
It was arrived in my own mailbox. A sign it shouldn't have been mailed out — surely realized during its second attempt at deliverance. I stole a stamp from the business and lost words on the concrete.
Words i never said or sent
I am Saved by the post office or the sidewalk
Where my shame can be carried away in the wind.
Youve said to me before that i know where to find you.
Only if you want me to.

bug

centipede dreams
we are the insects crawling in my head out of earth
something of a rebirth , again
all of my legs.
nobody puts bunny in the corner
she will dig her way out.

midwest journals

6.5.24

hesperia
on a roadkill documentary piece
in a cobalt blue suv
the color of my terrible , to be expected , storyline of a 19 year old girls relationship, an _exes crust punk, house bedroom walls.
gold in my mouth
dentist for deer teeth, have a couple extra gift them to a friend
breathing dry filter juice
the eve of a tent feud
fried to scrambled
cast iron egg
professional sloucher.

6.9.24

Dream of brother. I still hold guilt. I was awoken by the shooing of a bug synthesizing with my dream world. I can't explain things like that.
Big peanut butter raisin mound.
In rural michigan you eat … big eater world. Its been raining. today is nice.
I wore hand warmers in my sock the night before last and either affixed poison ivy to my skin for hours or received a chemical burn- hoping for the latter. Meditative music on the land. I am thinking of the chiropractor.
Today I am adding a leather band to my daily apparel.
Dirty blue flip flops. drinking granola from a dog bowl.
Lucy goose.

two cities named the same

My love is in Paris, France and michigan. It is a battered racoon mother and daughter , an overseas phone call, it is digging through rubbish for a washboard to make clean
oh Vinegared soul, I bought a rosary blessed from the vatican.
What I learned on the road.

uncle sydney

A modern rendition of gray gardens. Girl and uncle in desert bunker
Inheriting the earth
An art residency of sorts.
Retelling of jane eyre.

ivory and dantes inferno

I think I drank from the river styx.
Deja vu double vision. The real einstein brothers wheeling through times square. Insane to be on a timeline repeated.
If he buys me roses does he love me? The Ivory roses delicate
A subtle beauty.
How opposing.
Everything he does is striking people cant help to notice. I move quietly secretly - shy girl.

iceland journals

3.19.24

The horses are on holiday this time of year.
Given a rams horn for my travels, put-down animal dried-out red stain. dashboard item. airport fear.
Tomorrow I think I will try the hot dog. Northern lights two nights in a row. I sat over my dinner begging for the SD card to give me back my photo. something higher revoked the exhibitionism in a public bathroom, a capture of weird body.
Best pictures are in my mind. Quite a windy day … nature is shredding off layers of my skin and carving into my face like a canyon. Paranoia has struck in that I feel Im aging.
I used the car as a refrigerator for most of this trip and did not poison myself. I can take the eyes of many horses staring over a sea of sheep gazing. too curious to sit still.
i found a passion sharing thoughts in a guestbook and now my body taking space in the womans changing room. I took an extra shower just to recreate a photo tonight and my conscious is not any cleaner.

3.25.24

tender is the one who cares for the weak.
i felt a transformation bound in myself. i watched the floor cave and gravity test its unit.
straight to the ground covered in asbestros
we laid on the ground of the abandoned farmhouse while i cleaned his head of dust, jacket of dirt
nestled in my arms
placed next to a rusted cassette stereo boombox
i felt like an ambulance racing to the hospital
signing on the line
how do you suppose i understand the shifted mission
great sleep lsat night surrounded by instruments and farm animals
once you are a friend of the road no place can scare you off
even if driving alone
in the middle of iceland at night
green lights dance the way.

3.30.24

Some days i feel im hunting
With a quick pace. for the camera.
Wind blowing holding onto my hat
after a lifetime i know that there is no replica of the first time for worse or for better. Refused dinner so i drank a beer instead. Angel with the racoon tail.
I love bathing culture
i needed only to be naked in front of others so that i could understand my own body. I am usually the only watcher gazer upon my flesh and bones.
Blonde on blonde is what i am debuting when i return, maybe i can learn what it is like to fuck myself.

3.31.24

Thinking of two wonders. Walking up to a fence on the side of the road to pet horses and sitting on hay in a barn listening to 200 sheep eating their night meal. Nature is not about the quiet its about the heard.

tender

Tender the feeling of softness inside - a self definition from my mind
Definition actual

Tender:

1 showing gentleness concern or sympathy
2 easy to cut or chew; not tough
3 sensitive to pain
4 young immature and vulnerable
5 (of a ship) leaning or readily inclined to roll in response to the wind

I dont know that all of these cant apply at some level
I'd like to think i am a ship or a good steak

when i am tender

dead bedrooms

bark at me over dinner
watch me pace my apartment until the paint starts peeling off the walls.
met at a bad time
bed bug warrior and ex boyfriend liver
“Do you ever wake up thinking you're in your childhood bed?”
I'm not sure which one I would wake up in. It made me think about when a tree should have killed me in my sleep, falling into the neighbors den instead of my childhood bedroom.
You are finding comfort on an air mattress - with towel covers and trashbag pillows , as it lowers into the floor at night. sat so close on the subway bench sat so close on the bus seat.
I don't even know how to ride the bus.
You walk us to the invisible bus stop and I take us to the catholic apartments, close enough to a shotgun wedding with yourself.

gilmer county

pickled quail eggs at the gas station put back because i couldnt imagine the taste
rolstons corner , rural georgia
i drove a new strangers volvo to elijay while it spit out black fumes down the parkway
who overfills the oil in their engine anyways and
who doesnt turn their car off when opening the hood
nobody died i guess
boyfriend for a day
i think youre like a great lesbian
skilled with the hands
sucked into a fire
i could be your ny girfriend
but only from afar.
fish after lion
gonna get ate.

8 over 8 is one

the birds sing peacefully in the morning
but i am not the birds
i am the manged cat
lying miserly on the sidewalk
and i know how to die.

amtrak to portland

by the traintracks thursday
the thirteenth honk for livestock
blow your train for the country folk
skeletons on a hill top or skeletons in a closet you close and book that 27 hr train ride from
how would you feel as an rv parked under a willow tree
i think of lenny in this land of mice and men ,
towards salinas ca.
the train operator said dont get off this station unless you want to stay here but i saw a tent and clothesline pitched by the river
that sounds like god.