Holding –

I;ve been feeling energy flow, how it interacts with space around me, how it affects my conversatons
note: this might not be flow as much as dissonance.
The resounding, empty, empty, emptyness.
No, he isn’t here.
No, he isn’t here either.
then where did we put him, where did we leave him to roost?
What parts of him linger here.
Remnants of his…everything.
And how I miss that.

And how do you forgive that vastness of discomfort. Hi, old friend, trusted confidante, how are you today? I’m not hoping to make you upset but, remember that time you mightve tried to kill me.
Or those times.
Hey brother, how about all those times.
hey deep unsconscious mind, how about we string less of the men in my life that i’ve been distrusting of together, and also stop compiling these traumas themselves ontop one another so that i have to sift through that ache left open.
Hey track three, thanks for the reminder of the edge of the world. Remember glancing down and feeling, yes, he could kill me if he wanted to.
leaning down, cutting my palm on the open ground above the freeway, feeling everything that was in hibernation. All the pieces drifting inside me closer to one actual piece.
Why did the trust have to be pushed that far for me to feel a hand to hold.
Uphill both ways in studded heels with less than my right mind. So why?
why push,
there’s my own volley.
The always push to say- its not my fault I can’t hold back. the always push to say, please, here is my warning ahead of time. Don’t make me regret being.
Don’t make me regret me anymore than I already do.


We should call it, the day we laughed through Allen Ginsberg
Or the day you told me you hated coffee with cream
Our voices glittering together
Your cold feet under the covers,
and how your words were never
The winter lending itself
to lovers wrapped in each other

The Long Road

I want to say that everything is easy.
There is hurt here, so much has been broken. There were so many gates left open too long, too much rust; you would get it if you were the kind of person who ‘gets’ things like this.

Instead, let me tell you what it feels like to grow.
There are no claw marks in my suffering, I have no desire to wrap my hands around my anger, I left it by the door, by the fork in the road; even indecision is a choice.
Even disappearing is a choice.

The car below my balcony stalls.
Someone, somewhere is having worse luck than I am.

Feel good hymn

Come on, just this once;
Put the hammer down,
Let everything be sugar unwinding in the hot sun
No one’s got time anymore so stop nailing your heart
to that oak tree
Here is a thumbtack,
This is a dedication on the radio at four am,
Here is a bottle of scotch but only three ice cubes
I’ll draw a treasure map, I’ll leave the porch light on
I’ll dance one more time with my head on your shoulder,
one more time with my palms on either side of your head
Here is a bandaid
Here is the lullaby from the night you fell asleep sighing;
Forget that ruined evening
Every missed step lands on an earth already waltzing for us
In perfect time
Tell me again how we’re made of iron and lead
Tell me again how there’s no curing this
just whiskey kisses and the lump of your pulse on your throat
Here’s the facts kid; that ache might be here to stay
But let’s press ourselves together like flowers
No more wilting, and look we’ll even cheat death
Here is the open wound you’ve convinced yourself you are
Maybe that scotch could do you some good after all
Baby, put the knife down,
Give me a better forever than our names slashed together
Anything better than a big heart, rough-cut and leaking
Baby, come inside;
the radio’s on
It sounds like the pieces all put back together,
they’re playing our song

Bunny Hill

I’ve forgotten what it feels like to be lost in a quiet this decadent. ┬áRemind me how the world stops spinning. I can tell I speak slower these days. The way my spine pulls me back towards the mattress. Hey friends-who-are-now-strangers, and the woodwork and where have you been? And where are you going? Just maybe not today. Tomorrow, definitely.
Didn’t I tell you? I’m sleeping again.
I know what this means, you know what this means.
And no, I’m not saying it has to always be that way; sunlight and sweat and sighing while you roll your eyes.
I can feel my pulse slowing in my veins
Every action has an equal and opposite reaction.
The way you tell me about your father and I imagine that truck, and the tens of thousands of pounds of force and curbsides.
How come the summer always holds me down this way? The winter isn’t supposed to wire anyone to stay up all night .
Everything always melts and it leaves me sprawled out on the sidewalk listening to Piebald watching the vultures circle overhead.
So I’m trying to watch the sun rise, and trying to drag my hands across keys and leave well enough alone.
I’m trying.
The sting of your palm, and gin against my tongue, and too much coffee too early and too late.
Ladies and gentlemen if you look to your left you’ll see we’re currently grasping at straws.
I am losing momentum.
Where did I go?

once bitten,. twice shy

They never write it down, do they?
what the world sounds before it comes falling down.
its the quiet; that sleepy silence and soft breath on your neck
sunlight through windows the way summer settles in on you
all of it so familiar
if people can be seatbelts, some of us are crash test dummies
We are all things, always
hitting the windshield
nerves, and glass
all flying through chaos hoping the wall doesn’t hurt so much
when we collide
this time

On Sundays I have to lie very still for a while
or else the space between my ears feels like its on fire
Here I am,
popping the clutch again
Here I am,
awake at four am again
the earth spins on an axis, nothing ever loses momentum
the noise and the mess, this
is an orchestra
we are all making our mothers’ mistakes
all left standing
bandages and apologies