There, concrete bridge Throwing up like a landmine Shocked to the brim Might let you in
You—there for “support” Always following me Wherever I turn up Scared for me Budget B-movies Film star queen The things in-between Get me out of this serene dream
Poem: 77 in [continued]
Them, rotten toys Making all of this devouring noise Unedited, spherical bends of water Shriveling cold beats Turn up the heat To do away with, that’s a fact Or a vision—to destroy Our friends we’ll employ If we have any left by then
You, not forgotten in the least Leather jacket, cold-hearted beast Pockets so deep I put my hand inside And I leave it inside It’s comfort I find Ask how many inches tall you are No matter the answer, it’s still up far But with my hand in your pocket, I smile That little girl smile, you know It’s comfort I find, you know
West Dale Palms boulevard Clover avenue I go to the grocery store And I run right into you Ask me how things are back home Do your days ever feel terribly long I say, I have to go Think I know the place where I belong
Hollywood, Los Angeles at dusk Her perfume smelled like camellias that bloom in November They look just like roses, so naturally I’m obsessed Swing the door open to a settled fire, Capture in my hands: tiny, soft embers Collapsing into moonlight, but Cradled like dust I’ll be strong for both of us If I must
Love poem: Grocery store [continued]
You have to feed your nostalgia sometimes It’s really the only way that you’ll survive It’s how you keep the dreams alive It’s the only way they’ll see you on the other side
West Dale Palms boulevard Clover avenue When I go to the grocery store I always look for you
Nuclear envelopes A testable hypothesis Will you still love me if I – Will you drown me out Like the noise in a soundproof room He always said he’d like to go to solitary confinement just to get away For a honeymoon
Light leaks Asparagine and leucine Convoluted sighs and my pink floor-length satin dress Eating three times on Mondays, Eating four times, the day after Consuming enough carbohydrates to be like a plant A prisoner in your gardener A wide-awake blooming orchid Couch that fell from a truck bed onto the motorway We could just make it ours Watch the fires and fireflies swarm in the distance Devouring apricots A routine for my bedtime
Poem: Ant colony (birthday balloons) [continued]
Letting go of lethargic tendencies But I don’t have the energy I’m miserable, with or without you Have to be the writer of my own memoir, the heroine in my own maladaptive daydreams That serve me quite well Like soft serve by the beach Made from plant-based oat milk & Oreos I’ll let the sea and the sun and the sky devour me, so I can merge with the ants and Worry only about my colony What a dream it’s becoming
Empty head Empty thoughts Your Percocet My writer’s block I’ve been too, afraid, to put this down on paper A typewriter with no keys Hands that swell Knees that bleed I know perfectly well That I’m who you need Will you be there for me, in the daylight and the evenings? My handsome prince Tread carefully I’m exactly who I aspire to be
Poem: Ant colony (birthday balloons) [continued]
I believe in myself, most of all Though, the cognitive dissonance gets swept like ashes At a fireplace Melting, blurring a reality that you swore was three-dimensional You vase of a porcelain starlit galaxy You atmospheric void, claustrophobic from your own apprehension I’m so in love with every part of you Especially the pieces you really disdain
I’ll take them in my hands Like the softest of sand
Poem: Ant colony (birthday balloons) [continued]
I don’t know what to do with all these birthday balloons The vinyl you bought me, thank you, by the way You precious thing. And the things I have to move on from Tangled in grief-ridden spiderwebs Merging through lanes with my blinker forever on I follow all the laws When the crows are watching, carefully
I’ll let the sea and the sun and the sky devour me, so I can merge with the ants and Worry only about my colony What a dream it’s becoming
It’s the waves of sadness that trickle with madness As I cascade onto the lost heavenly golden shore, Like a goddess from a stolen shipwreck, I swim upstream, like an airplane in the wind I won’t press send yet I’ll leave you diamonds and all of your belongings, arranged into their definitive but transient places Sprawled amongst my living room Garments, piles of yarn & cotton I thought I had it, but my god I’ve lost it
The breathtaking splendor Of an afternoon in November When you cradled me like a little baby in your mariner’s arms, Like a tomboy Like a child Like with you, I’d happily run wild Any day of the week Do you mind if I speak Or leave love letters, here and there, for you to read When your eyes are Closing In-between somber nighttime The stillness I could never objectify
A smooth transition Won’t you pay attention I’ve got my hair in curls, a floral neckline A passerby’s time Glance at the clock I almost forgot I have to let the sheep out before the wolves come back From hiding They do like to do that So rambunctious and eerie They paint me quite freely
I do love their art – I go to all of their showings Even when they take place on a Tuesday, or Wednesday, and I’ve got more work to do than I can account for
I’m a lady of charm And you’ll always find me armed That part you can disregard
Glock 23 G23 Pistol Semi Auto Firearm Handgun Schematic
I won’t shrink in your presence I occupy a throne I go to places where most would be too scared to step on their own It’s my afternoon glow When you find me on that smooth soft-stoned path, The dismay leaving my eyelids as I cast you not an ember of a doubt But a becoming smile Welcoming Almost Briefly Weeping Holding to you closest, what you want most
And that is? That is? Something to never be replaced Something I won’t touch lightly on Whispering to those in particular who have the patience to sound my vowels and consonants out, deal with the aftermath Elegantly Soft in the evenings Rambunctious – they all are Their witch hazel broiler room ticking clock Like apricots at a wedding In the middle of February For no reason, no reason For no reason at all
I sat down with you, there, close to the prisoner’s fence I wanted to inquire whether you loved me I can’t remember what I said But I did And that’s that You’ll run me a cold lavender bath Finding my hazel glow a little too appealing Hopefully, I hadn’t been too revealing The room is spinning And I am thinking
You’re like sweet nectar from a flower that’s never been held
