Thursday, September 17, 2009

hold tightly while i slip through

The head flattens and droops; oil
through water and the ears fall below the neck.
my shoulders arent questioning now
where they will end up, past the ankles, now
melted the way through their slopes of your hands
opened, eyes crying

Wednesday, August 5, 2009

about my ______ lying there

I'll give you my heart if you promise not to let it spoil, freezerburn or mold while youre away, we'll keep it sage in plastic wrap, the soft edges smoothing against the warmth of your hands molding it into shape. My lump, a slight shade of pink on the counter and shrink-wrapped into perfection.
Don't bother me with bubbles
or promises.
just concrete and ceramics
to fill the spaces between the loves. Lime
sweet on fingertips, inner thighs, sighs-
crisp edges upon which to slice ethics
into antics and love into moans.

Wednesday, April 15, 2009

I will look through your eyes and see the painted door of our house together. The cracks the wind has made. Tiny fingerprints on the glass, and to the leaves swaying in the background of your lashes. The knob has been fixed a thousand times. A hundred times broken, then tightened again. Hands around it, the oils rubbed the perfect pattern, polished it new again. The floors, they creak, the sunlight, it pours, your eyes, they blink the most thoughtful tears.

Friday, March 20, 2009


Im going to love; your unloved
parts; kiss you until your skin becomes
mine and youre in the folds of my brain;
until my fingers know every wrinkle
of your working parts, and when I wake
up smelling like you, I'll know that Im
in some sort of pagan heaven, one
where your lips are the gods and the way
they touch me is the communion
I take.

Tuesday, March 10, 2009

I hold the anger in my skin.
Its turning me red near the pores and at the backs of my knees.
The sun burns it back to white.

Clear cellophane saran wrap holds my heart and lungs to
suffocate me into pain during this anxious rage. But someone
allows enough space for them to continue; life more acute.

Dont forget to fall apart.

Thursday, February 19, 2009

Jonathan Livingston

I saw a lost seagull soaring above the highway.
Let me have this, he said.
Let me have the sky, misplaced; let me have the wind

Monday, February 16, 2009

Fragments; a thought

When I was younger, I was always the boy; my feet
smelled like malt vinegar. 

He stands, stature, as the welcoming committee.
He tans his fur in the sun. 

She almost fell down the stairs she was so excited. 

They keep sending mail to the dead and he was turning 
green and the scales that covered his body were growing
out around him. He could not watch. And together, there
they sunk deeper into the folded fabric of the couch. 

A sock filled with her jewels. Diamonds
spilling onto the bedspread; followed by
our collective wet eyes. We threw almost
everything else away. The thought of her wrinkled
hands struggling with the toothpaste cap. She'd look
in the mirror, past her granddaughters faces and to the
face of a young one. A lost mother coming to take care
of her buried child. 

Armenian, I've seen those eyes before. I inherited them
from the boat, off the shore and into my grandmother's
eyes as she sat across from him on the ferris wheel. 

He's the first to hold my hand. 

Finally, though, it was the stones that did her in.
The beauty and the bluntness of them all. The irregularities;
the smoothness and the way they could walk on water. 

Monday, February 9, 2009

we must be broken

I did not lose you. I cut you,
amputated from me. I've found you
months later in a place I did not leave

I lay in sweat at night, but my skin 
freezes out from the covers. Taking off
my socks and feel you groan beside me,
on top of the comforter. Your breathing,

You did not flinch from my heat.

Now I rest with feet oiled for sleeping.
The earthly one. 
His orange peace sweeping from my toes
to my closed eyelids. 

Scene from Cold Mountain

The goat was happy 
when it died.

With one hand she
rubbed its back and
underneath the jaw
she was about to

It smiled.

Dawn filled the room. 

Thursday, February 5, 2009

The skin stretched tight over the penciled bones, malnourished.
I live to see hunger in the eyes and the beauty there not eating. 
To stop breath. 

There was something about the way she held her hair; as if
to keep it from soiling. And the part, it would lift from her scalp
at any moment. 

The he, pierced the fat of her fingernail, clear liquid 
ran from the needle. 

Attached to her is a frozen child. 

They are falling off cliffs together

Wednesday, February 4, 2009


Its all fruit when I think of us together; freshly
plucked and peeled.
Raw. and bruised, then rotten
at times. Our liquid hearts. Our
serpent hate. Our delicious bites.
The nutritious skin, discarded by most,
too tough to get through.

Saturday, January 31, 2009

he buried her in the sky

She's ripped herself in half.
The furniture weight above her holding her
to the floor and seeing the worlds through
the cheesecloth of the limping tea bags.

She has lost respect for her skin; it
has detached from her organs and those
that make us bleed.

She is bleeding now from all the pores.
Its dripping out slowly through the
cracked skin flaking in the nail beds.

Raspberry leaves in their hot water. And
she will drink all of him in her cup and
saucer; they talk without sound and his
corpsy flesh cocooning her heart and lungs is
sweating out the generosity.

Sunday, January 25, 2009

a symphony

I wear my grandmothers' rings. And to
each, a significance. The gems are missing,
I find them stuck in the iris of your eyes. 
Glittering there, I try to take them and realize that
the extraction dulls them. The breaking
of a tiny thing, it stings your fingertips as it snaps

(the most romantic bit of pain). 

I look for you when I sleep; letting it fully settle 
upon me, soaking
in the denseness of you. Violin choirs when I hear
you breathing, like we're both ascending into
separate heavens. 

Saturday, January 17, 2009


My skin is screaming for you to stop.  
Like Indian rugburn, a strawberry,
a charlie-horse. 
I am lacerated again by your love. 
The skies were lavender today. And you
were four in my mind and me; the
murdered. Lying there, wasted for your words. 
Take me back! Take me home!
Abbreviated thought spots. Fragmented worlds/
pieced together lives and all the while you're
sitting in a pile of your own- gathered beneath the boards; 

Friday, January 16, 2009

I tremble electric

I care not for the playground nature of your eyes. But I am comfortable with your arms on my swelling stomach, you are mostly silent and when you sleep you twitch your arms, hot bricks beneath us. I am your last year encased in flesh, split ends with human eyes looking out through nothing. Color, grab a hold of me again; take me down into your early mornings and coffee'd brunches with folded fabric napkins and star colored plates. I belong there in the pinks. Wake up sweetly. Pink hands, dry corners. But I thought the morning had come, unhinged in the doorjamb, it is erased and I'll take to the grave just the way it feels now. Let go by your eyes that keep getting lost in beds. Please give me that when you wake up lonely. Let me into your waters, I want not these harden goods. 

Wednesday, January 14, 2009

Clair de lune

hang low in the sky the moments before
they meet. toes cold for chasing her and wet
cheek bones; they'll find nourishment here.


it is more like he has lost his own heart;
and ripped from him before he noticed
it beating; left on the concrete sidewalk
of her.

or better still. 

she has ran and sat in thorn bushes
before convincing herself, swaying
is the only possible motion. 

but then.


Sunday, January 11, 2009


everyday i become more disentangled from you. 
ive untwisted the plastic from the loaf again; and
the warmth of 
your skin against mine, the smell of your collar
bones and the steam from the shower after your
baths. our teal room of rest and yellow guest. 
purple for dining and magenta; the office. 
Dusk walks. 
i am fallen with the way your eyes see the world. almond
shaped and innocent there from behind the lens and
out into the lighted scene. 

Tuesday, January 6, 2009

Please Blot Me

Let me speak of salvation. 
                        Half tethered
amongst your coats' pile in the corner. 

Mine is there.
Yellowish against the black of the wall 
and your eyes shining through to melt 
my arms outstretched. 

There is something bleeding;
from the joints they type I love you.
I love you.
I love you;
away from yet inside the seam.

(I am weeping your fluid)

Monday, January 5, 2009


A misrepresented footsie underneath 
the shared table at our first dinner 
after the fact. 
Chin turned downward; 
and to look through eyes 
and one strand of fluffy hair caught in your eyelashes. 
This is what it feels like to be used up, the last
Bit of oil in the bottom of the bottle, barely 
I search for empty eyes through the gray light 
of the early morning. They find me there, 
naked with my body twisted and pinned between
your sleeping body and the cold wall. You rest
Silently upon the puff of your mattress. The quilt
rested down, but didn't cover your feet;

my darling, darling.

Thursday, January 1, 2009

so fragile their interaction.

i am an indescribable shade of clear, flaking
away really, mica on the playground sand. 

have i made you love her more. 

a final reprieve against disappearance. 

color in my face by number. 
two's for red. four's are yellow. 
perhaps, five's, then- purple. 
the collage of hue combining now to form an image. 
unascertainable, to others; clear to those of us involved. 
he loves her between each pause. for each breath. and 
underneath all they cannot see.