dear ( Read more... )

April

i watch a robin squirrel
away a cigarette-butt,
tuck it into a cryptically
colored nest before
he cheerily merrily
sings until august wilts.

the trees here are
deciduous, hunchbacked
and balding despite
coaxing temperatures.
i am altricial, undeveloped,
naked and chirping to no one.

would a peppermint girl melt in the rain?
i have never been confused by what exists,
but rather what doesn't and what never will.
i have crawled on my stomach through grass
taller the sears towers but all i want is to be
as anonymous as the strands of hair i find on
her bed. don't ask questions; assume their mine.

This is my favorite poem at the moment. If I could make a mixtape of poems, this would be either the first or the last -- most likely the first ( Read more... )

& i think in full sentences when i'm sober ( Read more... )

I write the word Yes every morning at least ten times. I think of it while listening to NPR during my drive to school. It has become a chant for me: "Yes, yes, yes, yes ( Read more... )

four years ago my family and I made regular trips to the Cattle Town where I know live. I know the streets - Cass and Burt, Chicago and Webster ( Read more... )

you comb your cobweb hair ( Read more... )

"I like average bands and think average thoughts;
my coffee is too black, yours not enough"
"Must we trample this worn carpet," she sighs,
"You are a fall leaf thrown like a paper airplane in spring,
at the wrong time, you always think those 'ordinary' things."

Now it's November and we wear sweaters, debate about wearing scarves, but most certainly put out summer sandals next to fireplace to be dried ( Read more... )