: faceless

we borrow
words from each other
filter them through our own
digestive tract
purge our truth
lend it to our loved ones
lie to our lovers
cover our asses
cover all the bases
check the boxes
check ourselves out in reflective windows
pass the time
pass out
pass away our own health
with every casual
french fry.

: day 0

the blinking cursor.

daunt | | | 

daunt | |

daunt |

what tools do you own

that support your art?

what medium do you use 

to share your world?

how will you make sure you never forget 

what you have 

yet to do?

list • • •

list • •

list •

all of your favorites

deepen yourself, relate

same , , ,

same , ,

same ,

but always wanting 

to feel 

different.

: you know how

when you quit anything

cold

you think you forget

how you ever knew how–

so much really is like riding a bike,

memories in your fingers

embedded in your nose

rooted down to your toes, all twenty-six bones.

the smell of home,
              of that spring,
              of necks, 

then that one familiar neck 
reminds you what it's like 
to begin again.

: feel dirt

if you were to draw 
a comparison, would it look 
like mine?

we stare into red, swirl at the stem
scrape at our years, and 
fall fresh into old habits.

i tried just hard enough
to impress [myself into] you
so later, for longer, you'd think of me often and on
purpose.

if i undid all of my firsts
and forgot all of my feelings
i'd never have found another.

: can help protect

young tissue,

let it soften in the dark 

build a bomb out of

tendons between

tight thighs

tilt your head
towards your heart
and twist

we face the window as the 

sunset bruises  

across the sky and i

am still

torn.

: sometimes of whom you can't distinguish but,*

public art

beat me to the root.

burnt my tongue on

something hot.

not pizza, but like pizza.

if i dream of you
but it's not really you

we're usually gathering in small, familiar crowds
huddled around something exciting

like public art.

sometimes a song will do me
a favor by serving my most private stories
back to me, raw.

every lyric beats me to it
behind my closed eyes.

*K. Vile

: goodies at the bottom

it's not about the taste
the temperature
the touch

it's all texture, baby.

time takes its time
time and time again
again we go against

the thickest hour.

i don't hurt you on purpose
sometimes it feels worth it
to watch my life end in your eyes.

: if you got aim

forgetting to remember something
because i don't have the itch
the form is not fitting
fuck the poem.

miscellaneous bruising
tight muscles and torn hamstrings
those are the memories
i force.

and then there's this
finger spit
cold drill
putting letters into feeling
mailing them off
to be forgotten.

: reality vs appearances

walk around 

spell words wrong

eye the city with

unsolicited lust and a little bit of theater.

walk around

spell words wrong
eye the city with

deficient calcium and a little bit of nerve.

: a narrow belt

finding simple pink in everything
we get off 

on getting lost 
in new time

every night is lit
every twitch is full
and everything good 
is on the highway.




emerson

: sun fun

every morning
real dreams
turn into coffee.

it's easy
making friends,
i've made them all my life.

when i met you
i forgot how to make anything
but moves.

i've been building a new muscle
somewhere in the middle
when i work it out
you grow, specifically.

every day i keep you
at my beck,
every night i call you
in my sleep,
& you keep turning into coffee
every morning

but Sunday.

: rara avis

it's been a long winter
but now we're back at camp.

i heard you coughing
in bed this morning.
do you think we are to have a rough
allergy season this year?

well, no matter. i grew myself
out of my hay fever last spring
i simply said, Not this year.

i've lied about my age because i don't
get asked often enough.

i've made jokes i don't believe in
out of habit and community.

something keeps me young
something helps you sleep at night
these are probably the same somethings.

open your eyes, we're losing feeling.
close your mouth, we're losing sleep.

: of month

if you run hard enough away from pain

you'll be sore tomorrow.

growth is sharp.

there are so many levels

and they always feel huge

and they always hurt well.

i miss my broken bones the most

they were beautiful and slow
and they grew out of respect.

i remember
how to build my body

how huge i felt
how well i hurt.

every deep itch, every raw tingle and hot ache
i taught myself
and i've organized my memories in physiological order

so i can draw the clearest picture

of every threat i've ever known.

i know exactly how to heal

i am so fucking good at it
of course i miss it.

: like groceries

do you know what it feels like to be

over productive,

and purposely anti

reproductive? 

well, come on over

i've got an eggplant slowly roasting

in leftover oven-heat

two nights in a row 

i saw through the hours i normally

save for sleep

i learned, not too late,

that there's a small, sensitive 

collection of minutes that were once lost 

to cosmic (or agricultural) misunderstandings

let's do nothing with those minutes

but move

loosen

and learn, not too late,

that there is always time if you stay up late and 

wait for it.

: art ache

a little too rough, i
pressed the tip
of my pencil down
and broke you.

just then, i awoke
to cotton clouds, cottonmouth
and wordless sleep in cotton sheets.

i know what it's like
to take the wrong bite.
i do it every day.

have you ever touched
a bird? i will never forget
that bird fridge, the smell of
damp, dead fur.

when dogs are listening
it is fucking obvious.
same for you. i think i know how to listen,
but i will learn how to look like i am
before i forget.

colors have been hard to draw
ever since i lost my patience blending.
i prefer watching them touch each other
in my closet.

last time i left the country
i thought i may never leave again. and yet.

i carry a water bottle
everywhere i go, just in case
i wake up thirsty somewhere far away.
or even, just in case somebody else does.

every letter in my alphabet
looks like an "i" --
it's really not my fault
that i's are so generic.

this one time
i decided i wasn't the kind of girl
who would be taken with horses.
now i know, that was a really great call.

go-karting is much safer than walking
the streets of manhattan alone.
sometimes i wish i could try both
naked.

it gets easier, being a bunny
especially when you don't see bunnies
on the streets of manhattan alone.

the other morning
i woke up without a single thing to do.
that was a joke.

Gratitude ate the dingo
that ate my baby,
and i was grateful.

the only times i love crying
are in crowds, because we all hear the same noise
and in bed, because you left me empty.

i can remember so many weightless smells
but not your skin.

: inviolate

dig a dot
into a zero domino
there is still plenty of time
to finish.

if you keep watering a dead plant
it's still alive
to you.

i've heard songs
that i've never heard before and will never hear again
same for people.

yesterday a stage was set
for a show that will make
all of the money and
none of the sense.

if i told you my eyes were still growing,
would you turn around
or take them?

if i told you the ground has always been still,
where would you step?

: palpable

let's get hurt

the weather is perfect

for it.

let's lose well

i saw someone do it

once.

let's trick people

i've heard it helps
the day go faster.

let's start a company
let's break hearts
let's pick teams
let's trade clothes

no one got wise 

from somebody else's flight—

meet me in the air.

: clinical dusk

Opposition took me

by the hand. Go, go,

into the Cerulean thunder dome.
I went willingly. I burn 

willingly.

Now, I am not alone. Nobody knows what shade
to throw, or where to throw it.

I sweat gold
you shed black and take me

by the hand. I could try 

harder at not acting
like a bitch, but we all know

bitches have more fun.

: superfly

one day i'll laugh at how

seriously i doubted

pop-stardom.

that day will be a Wednesday,

sunny but frigid, and i will smile
because i am dressed for it.

after dark i will wander

to a home i haven't found yet

and i will have doubles

of nothing.

my fridge
my bathroom shelf
my bedside table
my mantle and my closet
will only house contents that spark joy
when i touch them.

i will feel the presence
of everyone i've ever known on

my bookshelf.

this self will be carefully curated to remind me
i've been a star all my life.

i've been alone all my life.

: there's something about you

you got the lean

down, you got the come
down, you think you got me
down, silently

i will answer for everyone
i will speak the same way, but better
like butter

late night got you geared up
for winter. you're dry
dark and dimpled
i'm sheer tulle and ready for ruin

music spills
all over the hardwood
your bare arms
make waves

when you leave the room
i glow black
spinning loose, ripping tights

spelling everything wrong

i dance for no one.

: everyday every day

There are reasons
we eat over placemats
with lightweight silverware.

I need a knife that can cut
for me. I don't trust myself with
anything but pencils.

I open my mouth too fast
out loud and on paper, I say
your name; I will say it until I own it.

For tonight, I slipped a chapstick
into one of my zipper pockets
and forgot about it.

You're jotted on my
paper calendar; Now I will remember what we did
to each other every day, everyday.

: Anything's all right

i'm a joke. [beat]

whatever, i'm real.

you're not a joke.

you're a phenomenon.

i need to grow up.

i dont [beat] know [beat] how.

i dont [beat] know [beat] how.
i dont [beat] know [beat] how.

you'll know you've made it when you present a bowl

of house nuts.

S. Jackowitz

: "Two by two in the ark of the ache of it"

draw me pictures
draw me a bath
draw me a picture of a bath
draw me drawing in a bath
draw me drawing you a bath
draw me drawing you in a bath
draw me drawing you in
draw me drawing you
draw me drawing a door
draw me a door
then withdraw with me.




D. Levertov

: working hands

you scream your way inside

a deep breath.

my wind burnt cheeks

smile back, biting down with cold teeth.

you slide between fresh whites,

shimmy a light blanket over tight clothing.

i wonder,
how do you talk with so much hanging

from your neck, every word, gold.

: TGIF

move micro

wave hypo

thick nitro

type tightrope

ripe kite
pipe brick

wrip tint

shake trick

ridge cake
punt rack
lit tinge

prick nickel

germ business

: Raving

"Let my heart be still a moment and this mystery explore;—"

Take me down, ebony-backed, 

throw my shadow to the floor. Twist my soul

from its rest and I, complacent Nevermore.
"That one word, as if his soul in that one word he did outpour."

I doubt— If there were such a word, I'd shout

my tongue forced to your core.

I shake the ground you thought so firm, 
irk the future from its form, 
Thrust my selfish expression 

toward moments stolen from before.

You safely travel out the door, say,

’Tis the wind and nothing more!”

-The Raven, E.A.P

: ode to Csikszentmihalyi

Your wildest dreams are your best ideas. 

Trust them.

: lofty

I discovered how to act like an adult

this morning. I paid a small bill

I discovered how to dream like a child

last night. I lived in Fever

Become your discomfort
as you inflame yourself.

Oh, my mother was right again.

We're all just growing wild to freeze what's already been frozen.

: matte

if he had worn a coat, no
a jacket. what's the difference?
fuck it, i sing when i'm sad.

thumbing at sore fingers,
thumbing at winter, i sing
through cracked lips and heels, through
a static mess, warm chocolate.

it hurts to be heard
laughing from across the ocean, i know
i know. those big belly laughs,
unearthing our abs beneath layers

of coats and jackets.
your blue wavy eyes, i crouch upon
your brown brow and
just barely wet

my feet
preferring pools.

: with an "i"

A story seems purposeful, predictable.
A story can shake a cycle

when read, especially when recited. So recite.

I love to learn
I know nothing.

Every day it comes down,
more and more it comes down, until

no matter what, it all comes down
to exposure.

This is the part where language breaks and chance

takes off it's clothing for an eager audience.

All we want is to be noticed

but all we can control is what we notice and how

we take more notice of what we've already noticed

and re-notice, and re-notice.

: visceral

the hardest is neither
your space in the bed, nor your things
on the things chair, neither your socks nor stray hairs
it's the impression you left

in all of it. as if you're returning
later today, but today will last

a season. so i wonder, will we see more days
that last seasons in our years?

then, and only then
i may learn to lend
your impression to the space

between time.

: mesofacts

it must be hard to choose

a faucet from a room full of them

without a sink to set it apart

as it turns on

and so its hard to choose

a lover from a room full of them

without a sign to set her apart

as she turns on

but it isn't hard to choose

a light from a room full of them

without a sky to set it apart

as night turns on

: elicit illicitness

i'll buy something very quickly, run
my purchase right down the middle of a second
to bury its permanence
sometimes i'll wear a shirt right out the door
by law, pulling its tags for the thrill only
to present them at the register
like a good girl

licking envelopes slowly
has become a corporate thrill, not
because of it's suggestion, but
because it's 2015
and no one fucks
with a wide rule or bids
on the postal service to carry their meaning

it is by custom we sit
in the den with our shoes off and
think almost nothing of the senseless itching at our soles





meditation on il•lic•it, for•bid•den

: diamonds of the dustheap*

you look so good in everything
you do

everything you do looks so good
On purpose

you handle, carry, look out
for objects as you 
handle, carry, look out 
for selves

tell me if I take care 
On purpose
will my objects and selves last longer in your hands?





*V. Woolf

: cacao

Of course there are instructions
for  How to load
                                   a dishwasher
and How to cook       quinoa
and How to expedite the ripening of an avocado
But what is currently out there on 
       How to mean better?

What I mean is,
       How to be less mean when meaning 
       How to learn if even I mean my meanness at all?

Resolve to mean with intention, 
touch with attention, 
reclaim energy lost to retention

And finally, to never suggest
        You know what I mean,
As if You should already be Versed in 
        How to load, fluff, ripen
                                                   without my instructions.

: rezzies one five

BRAIN

make more, $ave more

chill as hard as you work

write for sense

keep repping snail mail

BOD

hundy squats daily

namaste weekly

aeropress & bonk break

water, water, water, soda stream, lime juice, Titos

BEYOND
spark joy
dance to sweat
sing outside the shower
LEARN THE FUCKING GUITAR.

: mondegreen

it could be the green
but it's probably not.

we breathe more
purposefully

now everyone's lion
but no one bears.

dark before 5
and new times

are a comin'.

: propiniquity

fall 

in sight, developed only along the edges,

like a polaroid left to cool in the dark

we squint truth

image

in thought, weightless

as words that we keep

saving. try to control
versions by editing along the way

in which iteration shall i keep you?
you working progression.

: when we talk, so much is in

the press

angles meet 

and corners of bodies
                               barter,

the gaze

pupils split

and corners of minds
                              delve,

the move

muscles seize 

and corners of souls

                             pang.

: see what you did there?

yesterday the air was hands

running through and across

loose wisps and 

lips-

a smile smiled over itself
leading soles to dance

the distance 
from here to where

you stood-

see what i did there?

the tip is just 
to invent bodies
on top of bodies-
and to pre-exist.

: found friends

Never too overcast to feel 
for the fuse--

Cow corn called out
in Loud purples; yes, cow corn & one clover 
atop a shoestring stem

   [ Look at how they breathe
                      better than We 
                               ever have ] 

though it was everything like running 
through a field of sneakers and skulls

How unsurprisingly the corn and clover came 
at once, while we 
so obviously
struggled.

: of course

everything fantastic looks simple
elemental value and i am attracted to your step
your stray hair, your belt
loop, the border that lines your
moving mouth, oh
it has always been ridges--
ridges & ridges & yours, especially,
that move me.

: I know you love Manhattan, but you ought to look up more often.*

There's a place where the air
is fresh and the water
is clean and the scenery
is green,
              Who likes this shit?
The competitive
hill climbers are thin like rails, but strong
              What is wrong with these people?

Meanwhile,

 the city's hung with flashlights!
the Ferry's unbuttoning its vest!

It's like a locomotive on the march, the season
      of distress and clarity

*F. O'Hara

: with a mighty expectation of relief *

we eat words
before sunrise
chop fresh and fill to the line—
and we number new feelings
after noon-time

then wait
that familiar 
wait.




*L. Cohen

: notes quotes 2014

you need to start dressing like more of a bitch

[in which we people-watch in central park]

when I think of old people having sex, I think about rustling leaves 

[in which we spend time in brooklyn]

Budweiser looks like the pee of a well-hydrated person 

[in which we find a dive bar to become regulars]

boobs are fancy 

[in which we break for lunch]

at least i didn't poop my pants ten miles from home 

[in which we discuss running problems]

i don't trust you as far as i can fuck you 

[in which we find ourselves out on the upper west side]

can we go to a Subway with a bar? 

[in which we decide we should have some dinner]

this morning i made appointments for the doctor, dentist, and eye doctor. 

most people spend years of their lives putting that off and then they die.

[in which we realize that saturday mornings are for adults]

: phrozen pen

I still taste syrupy flesh
of peach from late-morning Friday
in the Fall-- warm, white

Italian man in peak season at Union Square.

Fingerbreadths of ankles bare,
coffee carts and a fresh pressed

book against my thigh, I
have everything with me now--

But today I swallow the pit, step over frozen spit

force faith in the impending Thaw and thank

the man who put that peach in my right hand
and in my left: A New, Free, Pharma Pen

: two pines

between two pines
I grew you
a set of dreams that shimmered slightly when you walked
up and down the pebbled path with purpose, sandy, damp.
among the stars
I knew you
looked up every once in a while and took a sip of winter
held it tightly, and blinked back twenty years of gazing, still.

this time last year we were premature and stressed
oh, now we've done too much
too soon, take me back to a June where the light stayed up late with us as
we drank to the heat, to hand holding, to heart handling, to hair tousling
to the same kind of tomorrow 
and tomorrow.

: oh may oh my

In the June hurricane I shivered about a sidewalk
bordered by discarded umbrellas and soggy sandals, I
squeezed the handle hard, headed for a new home and hoped--

In the June grass I rolled, skin stained and the skirt of my dress
We walked our toes to callous, drank our insides silly
Fire is alive and well, alive and well, and well--

In the June moon I saw two pairs of eyes strain
against the stars, swearing truths about the past.
Look at what happened. What happened? What happened.
We made it happen, we made it, we made
We.

: 9/11

Twelve years ago, I pressed my forehead against warm metal 
scenic lookout binoculars and watched the city smoke 
and struggle from across the Hudson. With each panicked saccade, 
I tried summoning the mesmerizing skyline I always knew. 

To this day, when I close my eyes I still picture those two iconic towers 
in their rightful places-- but this morning I walked to work wide eyed 
and marveled at our strength and resilience both as a nation and as individuals. 
We grow up, we move out, but we never forget.

What the Pave Meant (on August 8)

Summer showers cleanse indiscriminately
but we, persnickety, take showers daily. We take
those for granted.

The tar told me a secret when my cheek was pressed to it:
This is water, we are water
And when tears fell, rain fell harder.

Vital signs trafficked my pain
and life turned into Life: the game
of simply controlling the moments torment
to hatch a treatment from a threat.

Oh, I was in that summer rain.