// Scars //

Where you were hurt
where it was not
your fault,
where the butterflies
worked on you
with their kisses
and stitches
and whispered
against your raw
and frightened

This, my dear child,
this is how
you grow wings.


From Luminae, available now on Amazon.

// Rise //

I had been given too many hands, brought up with ravens nesting in my throat. Love is screaming down the hall, love is darkness tearing cracks in a house which cannot fall. I learned the secret as it was threaded, woman into woman into woman into me. My wrists rush full of your veins (you at the ankles of my budding devotion, you the ascending lotus flower, you the sinew of the mouth of lineage).

My name is a language, my name is a generation, my name is earth, my name is seven letters penned in the dirt.

My name is the name of the truth.

I made it split my tongue, this opalescent rain which fills my lungs. Wet this room at the center of my neglect, concave, dim; the white eyes of this dying celestial.

Fracture this calculated light where I hunger and crawl and thirst for the rivers, watch as my numbness scales every mountain if only to peel back the sky, death is but a kiss along the seabed of a dying moon. Teacher, read for me. If my words disturb you, feed your breath to the cells of my body until I speak again of gentleness, speak the name, all of the names within my name, embryos falling through my hands.

And we will turn our cold minds to emptiness; we will coax a taste for morning, begin to raise our faces from the dust.



// Darkness Falls //

I didn’t want it to be like this
you hanging by your teeth from my breast
and my not wanting to kiss you.
How the being of neglect walks alone through the hills
black cloaks and woodland creatures falling all around
my feet

the birds have come to nest
the birds have come to die

for lack of air in my lungs.
I could watch you spinning for as long as it takes
to stand the earth still
and freeze the clouds overhead in place,

write to me of the darkness you see. I want
to read the words you choose.

I bathe in cool darkness,
shower and dress and tug at my
in darkness

line my lips and my eyes and stain my cheeks
with the smut and the ink

of the darkness in which
we dare not between us



// untitled //

are you okay
it seems like the corners of your eyes
have fallen
it seems like the way you hold onto my hand is
flowers dying on the cherry wooden table
next to a beautiful vase
by the window left
like curtains alone with the breeze.

up against the wall i thought i heard the sounds of time
footsteps coming down the hall
are you okay
when i’m in here they don’t tell me anything

the carpets are greensea and the dust
chokes the daylight.
i’m turning in my sleep
footsteps leaving down the back stairs.
screen your calls, you have no more to say but
i am waiting and the calls cannot get through
i’ve disconnected all the lines
not knowing is not better
(are you okay?)

but i’m afraid there will be no answer
so i keep the questions folded in small creases
inside my paperfoil heart.
i’m okay i’m okay i’m okay.



// Beg //

You unlock your mouth in dreams
undone by my adoration,
my heart continues
to divide.

What may I offer you to feast upon?
This body is sacred, this body is sick.

I drip as you beg
at the plastic edges of my sweet disturbance,

cry for the softmilk of my blood.

The pallid grasp of chemical hands
drowning the streets in her venomous drink,
sing for the weakness of thy flesh,
how charming the scent of dark, ripe seed.

In the place where love has never lived,
the mourning of love grows here:
spread wide and sodden atop the fading gravestone hills,
a cold nightwind gives birth

to a dying winter sky

our pleasured anguish writhing
beautifully beneath her.



// I Looked Up //

I looked up and I saw
you coming.
I saw the way you
have entered my life in footprints

I had mistaken for music.
The sky began spinning
golden spheres of watercolour globes
melting teardrops upon thick stems.

Life will be water. Life will bleed.

These were the endlessness of
fields wet with gray which unfolds forever.
I saw you raining up from the ocean
from clouds full of darkness.

I pulled your broken bones
from my throat
and we went again hungry.
They were affixing my lashes with feathers:

my eyes became heavy
my eyes became soft.

I saw you coming
and I saw you leave.

I wait for you
counting hymns in silence.
I watch the way sunlight
burns through the trees.



For Andy 

// The Truth of Who We Are //

We mistake so many monstrous things for strength and this to me is very dangerous. To label something strong and powerful for the wrong reasons. To call anything less than love and humility “strong” is to call weakness strength. It is to put our trust in what is false, unreal, incompetent and incapable of providing protection, inspiration, life.

With all that is happening in my country, the turmoil, manipulation and shame that has infiltrated the very fabric of our existence as a free nation, what I am most afraid of is our collectively losing our grasp on the truth. The truth of who we are, what we stand for, what we desire to become.

In these radical times what is threatened most is our own minds, our ability to think for ourselves, to break away from the hype. Where can we turn to trust anyone or anything?

We must become the most fundamental of truths.

We must search ourselves to uncover the love in the light and the darkness and we must hold tight to what we know. If it is not humble it is not strong. This we know. This one simple truth unblinds us, this simple truth would bring the world to its knees in praise of gentleness and compassion if we would only practice what we know to be true.

Only as much as we can trust ourselves and one another can we build anything at all.

Now is the time for art and writing and creativity which cuts to the very bones of the truth.

This is our work.

It matters.



// Fall for You //

You and I
delicate devils
murderous angels falling dustpink
upon the footsteps

of the dark

as I dance you eclipse me
your eyes along my slenderbones

moonglobes thrust into orbital

kiss this grievous heaven
erupt in the mouth of this sweetpain
love as grace as you puncture

rupture resuscitate
my heart.



// The Lives We (Do Not) Live //

As I am writing this to you
another life curls herself
against my spine,
she whispers into someone else’s
ears, I mistake them

for my own.

I confuse our turning
toward one another

or away?

The life I have chosen

blooms upon
my chest
as the one which haunts me
stands beside us




// I Hate You I Love You //

I hate the way you write. How you expertly unmask a thing I never felt worthy enough to claim. Baby teeth, bare breasts against a bare back shallow breathing, strip swimming in the lake behind my house on the last golden pages of summer. The red crest of dawn raining along the ocean waves, the space between my fingers as it wraps around your cigarette transporting it from your soft lips to mine.

The way I bite when I kiss you.

All of it makes me want to develop the codes that would bring entire global systems down. Nervous systems, subway systems, government, technology, religion, media, everything with screaming walls you cannot see but feel dividing up the cold chambers of your soul as you sit in bars blinking at screens trying to erase yourself.

I whistle your love songs and imagine pulling the plug on every light across the globe so all that is left to guide the lonely through the blackout streets are white electric clouds sweeping through tree limbs made windy of stars.

I do not know if this is love but the way you rise makes me want to shut everything down.

I want what you have to spread its million mouths wide inside my veins not to taste me but to breed into me, to bleed into me your terrible miraculous insides, to become a thing no one else can touch. An animal which cannot be given a name but all the sorrowslain people, they would give every last breath from their disintegrating lives for just one moment to be this new creature that we are. They would reach for us with beautiful hands as we vanish into the ether.

I wish I could say this in a way that reflects the way it is smoldering on the underside of my trembling tongue, with more elegance, with more grace. So I don’t sound so much like I’m full of grease and some kind of snaked inky greed but there it is. The truth is a gaping black chasm gouged in the table between us. I cannot help but follow my dark thoughts and they have led me here to you, to this crumbling naked room. The air between us growing thin, trying to get out the same way we got in, but the sand falls in too fast.

Two butterflies trapped in an hourglass falling from the sky.

As we observe each other’s bodies but do not speak, the doors of the past all close behind us and disappear.

Here we sit wet and glistening underground, here is the pit of my stomach of fangs and fears. My love, here are my hands and my heart and my sickness.

I beg of you for both of us: start digging.