: 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.

: before we knew how they built skyscrapers

city unfolding
across my lap
wrinkled with use
and savory speech

we dine
in the prime
confines of fear
and fortune

we drink
at the dusk
of our prepubescent nights
windows open, shoes off

you're a firm believer in nostalgia
and that company keeps us
current and distracted while
we stay up, we stay out, then stay
late. we take care, we take more, then take
off.

will we remember the sentimental introduction
or only the new afterword?

: Ezra Blooms in July

I.
First, you get the sugar. It simmers around the edges, 
hot and sweet and smelling like fresh skin.  
When smooth, spread to coat.
You coat my self and we slide, slick confection.
This bakes and cools.

II.
Next, you get the flower. Tub of topsoil, blooming bathtub full of green, living earth.
We unearth each other, your eyes planted into the shelf under your deep brow.  
Your stare is oceanic and wide. 
This time I'm not afraid to dive.

III.
Then, you get the milk. It flows not freely, but with intention.
We surprise ourselves in summer's open oven, flesh reflected.

IV. A freshly baked good.

: CANDLES

Cunt-wielding girls will do
Almost anything to share their little secrets with the rest of the world, but
Nimble men with small nipples and soft bellies just shout words and they're in.
Do not come near my childhood bed,
Leonard Cohen, this one's for you.
Eat dick. Sincerely,
Some women.

: the ROM

Dear family,
We are packing up and moving
to Museum, for a lifetime of learning
ossifies into
        The amber
        The molar
        The fine-toothed comb.
They've all been burrowed in the bat cave
Since 1996
and their fingerprints are still
on the fish tanks, though the fish are dead.
Are you having trouble believing
          believe!
such unreality in all things marvelous?
          74 million years!
Fossils are concepts
           to grasp
           to trust
You must un-remove yourself to be
moved.

: ode to Montreal

it's four years of walking home
it's when the sky splits and the light turns green
it's no stranger than spring surprising us yearly
it's the spontaneous monotony of school, gym, shop, cook, work, work, drink, sleep, work, fuck, spend and savor the interaction -
it's action!
it's a matter of exposure, all of it.
it's four years of never learning French, of gaining and losing, of laundry and hangovers.
it's rationalizing, rationing, rashness.
it's haecceity, the thingyness of the thing, it's eye contact and brush strokes
it's so funny to me
it's backyards and balconies and bathroom chats and belligerence
it's prime and messy, rough and rude, free and limited
it's jaywalking and speed walking and sweet talking
it's event making and dance partying and so much brunch
it's a hunch that four years well spent will be missed in the best way -
thank you for being a city i can call
home.

go without

he's the kind of big who's unaware of how strong he is:
bone crushing intensity and then we're limp bodies on hotel bed sheets
night lasts for an eternal instant when
the entire universe condenses into your grip on the small of my back

let us depend on the pulse:
press push pull pant and pry
mouths from necks from ears
and lock in the look that says less than each of us wants to believe
silent fantasies that scream for freedom in another world, somewhere.

from the swollen membranes of brains
and from fingers that freely feign understanding
something isn't right if i can only write at the artificial tap
fresh form flows from fingers that firmly push a pen
but the trusty lefty smudge will always slant my words
closer toward that dream i had to tell the world about

: VIRAL

Voluminous teens take a lot of drugs
Inside the abandoned Thunderdome under the blacklights of winter.
Railroad summers, chain-smoking through ripped jean holes,
And buttholes, and digging to china, and who's vagina is it, anyway?
Lie to each other one more time, for the fucking finale.

: tropes and torpors

Sugar, she's not easily convinced
where wonder is unreality
don't stop until the morning breaks any possibility of beyond what passed
to have and to hold are not possessive
to want is not enough
to feel and say is weightless
to ignore is deceitful
to hope is hard
tell her what she already knows
another tab off another can of another frozen Budweiser
it's too cold for intimacy, too candid for the country
she wants to bleed, make the snow steam red.

: 2k13

create more, use less
write more, think less
play more, plan less
listen more, talk less
move more, hurt less
love more, lose less


learn 2 play guitar
send h0memade cards
s1mplify
b3 kind