: 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.