Thursday, May 25, 2017


You told us there would be good news for people that like bad news,
and you were talking about a different administration,
a different set of disappointments,

and all of that seemed like a birthday party,

maybe it was,

or it was the pregnancy for all of this,

was it bad that I jonesed for it,
a little like I did for candy,
and things that I knew were bad for me,
but seemed less bad than everything else?

You told me you knew I was smart,
but smart meant difficult,
and there was little room in your simple walls for me,

and now it's all purple--


I think you knew the bubble was going to burst,
whether it flew or not,

I think you were well aware of the fact that it was eventually coming down,
and possibly in flames,

and there were stars and stripes,
and reasons to get people out here and look up,

but the thing is,
we were going to have to keep asking them to hold their breath---

Tuesday, May 23, 2017

Starry Line

I just thought we could laugh together and not be awkward,
but maybe a little awkward,
in the way that felt good because we had never been with each other,
or the way it feels when you smile up close,
and breathe heavily because there is no where else to turn,

and I wanted someone to notice me,
but not for that reason,
or that one,

but yes,
that one,

and I dreamt that maybe you would love me the way I loved you,
but I knew it would be too late

Monday, May 22, 2017

Twenty Second

There was nothing left of your decency,
so little,
in fact,
that it made me wonder if you ever had it,
and if you did,
then when did it leave you,
and where was the specter of all of this,

where did the remnants of your responsibility to the rest of us go,

somewhere out there,
you were watching this mayhem,

proud of it,

and I wondered how you would leave this Earth,
worse for the wear,
with so many young ones in your wake

Sunday, May 21, 2017


I forgot how much I loved you,
and how much you didn't deserve it,

until I saw the Arb,
and everything we'd dreamed of doing together,
that I now wanted to do alone

Saturday, May 20, 2017


It's a lot to ask,
but I wasn't shy,
and what I needed was much less than you had to offer me,

there was dirt,
and a sign,
and an epitaph,

and I had done all the work for you,
because it was in my nature to do more and ask for less,

and if I wrote it here,
without hesitation,
they would bring arrogance into the equation,

which was silly,
because I was bad at math,
and I was just a better person than you

Friday, May 19, 2017

The Times

We were big,
bigger than life,
than sequins falling from the sky,
than flutes with endless champagne,
and I was convinced we needed more,
and that we worth heaven and gold,
and we were worth magic that hadn't been invented yet,

and I loved you more than the jewelry he draped me with before his death,
and I spent my nights worrying about the color of the hearse,
and the decisions I would one day make without you,

and I worried a bit,
just a bit,
until I drank myself into a coma of consciousness

Thursday, May 18, 2017

Long Form Apology

Oh, please,

I knew I didn't like myself,
but I thought you were different,

and I thought when I shut the door,
you would come after me,

and when you didn't,
I didn't realize that said more about you than it did about me,

and now my epiphanies and hindsights are useless,

I already paid for the prescription,
and even these still give me a headache

Wednesday, May 17, 2017

May 17, 2017

You can't run,

and at the end of the road,
your nothingness,
your cauterized heart,

were useless,
much better off under a dulling Sun,

but you can't run,
and the Sun would come down,

and merge with the mirage,
with the madness we created

Tuesday, May 16, 2017

The Library and the Narcoleptic Intellect

Pillow talk sounds really good right now,
really good,

but then you keep yapping,
and asking me about what it is that I will say,

and my mind is numbing a bit,
without the cream,

and I want to staple your mouth shut,
and tell you that this is a place for quiet revolutions,

like I said,

Monday, May 15, 2017

The Write-In

If I wrote down that there were things I could do to myself,
you would go and say that I would do them,
and that made no sense,
it meant you were unable to suspend disbelief,
or the other way around,
or at the least,
that you misunderstood everything about me from the get go,

and if I pushed my cuticles back,
you would think that was progress,
from back in the day,
when I was biting them six ways from Sunday,
until I got to the bloody root,

but if I wrote these things down,
I would have to talk you through them,
and down of the proverbial ledge,

and all of that sounded exhausting to me,
just fucking exhausting---

Sunday, May 14, 2017

Parlor, Parlay

All this having to think was getting to be too much,
and I kept finding myself back in that room,
with the peeling floral wallpaper,

it looked like urine,
and the doors didn't close properly,

and there was slumbering to the right and left of me,
but no one wanted to be in there with them,

but someone was,
someone had been,
at some point,

otherwise they could not have gotten that way,
looked that way,

but even the rest of us were boxed in