.the rabbits twitchin their sleep;they dreamof red bitten neckswet with spit,the birds dream of their eggscrackedand runny -the mice dream of hearingthat tabby cat screamas the teeth of life ripitwide open
.in the bodyof a dead womani am aliveand kicking
.he always wants the light onwhen he's sleeping, says he's scaredbut i can't see the point;i say not all monstersare trying to hurt you, at leastnot right awayand his bottom lip goesand he screams shut upbut i laugh and i tickle his ribsand then he laughs with meand he sayslove youand i say i love you toolittle man(i love you too)
.love like thunder;make yourself known
.and they knew,they knew i'd gone -when they found me outside crouchedwith a string box and stick, singingi'm going to catch me my death,make him sick -now i sit in a gown that is whiterthan white, doesn't suit me,this ghost to myself -on the corridor bench with my kneestucked in under my chin, rattlingwith green yellow blue(i've told you, i know where i'm going)
.if you were here i'd forget you again,hack your name with a cleaver and wipe offthe ink on my apron, spend the rest of my daysstained black in the creases of all my fingersand thumbs, i know there is a lesson waiting,maybe in the summerlands i'll see a blindinglight,my funeral pyre,maybemaybemaybelost in the woods it will come to me, wings clippedand say, it's time you picked a sideand stuck with it, wear yourself down to your bonesand make it quick, he's coming, well what if i wantto sicken and die? lay my head in the hydrangeas and fadefrom purple to blue, just wither away, okay? wellyeah but not in a day, i guess i'll have to stayon the doorstep drunk, a waste of skinand time, i hearthe bark of next door's dog and wonderif he knows(too many souls)
.in the beginningin the bonewhite tendrilsof holy fire, the nightate away at it all,that acid tide -it ate away atthe bud in the mudand the blood,it burned their bodiesbut left their ghostsso they could beidentified -and then a wildman, a monsterpressed his thumb intothe air, he drewa cross upon his facesaid lightand nowi am drowningi am drowning in lighti am drowningin the whiteand the goldas he sitsat the end of my bedand he shouts -for somethingor someonei don't knowand i scream, god, please justlet me sleep!let me sleepin the cold barren groundof the earth,let it pull me right inthrough its mangle -and i feel a stingin the crook of my armwhen they come(and then even the wolves, even the wolves start to whimper)
.i remember the springwhen you did not growand our arms unfurledfor no one
.i feel in a languagei don't understand,and the wings of the bird in my kitchen, theywon't get to feel the sky anymore -and sometimes doesn't it feel good?to put two fingers round the neckof a flower andsnap,hear the petals scream fortheir withering limbs,then start choking(instinct)
.the moon shudders;silver dust landsin my hair and i sigh,knock it off -what's your problem?i'm frustrated -i've been trying tostrike a match that won'tlight for two hours,she saysyou carry a lighter,remember?
.what doesn't kill youcomes back with something strongerto finish the job
.i will swallowthat white pearlon my tonguebut i'll open upfor no one
.know this; i loved the fireand i walked into it willingly, heavenis not up above but deeper down below(there is a snake with the world in its belly, eat it; you are a killer the same)
.your heart is a houseand i am screaming atthe front door
.i wantto know about god,which namehe would prefer to go byi want to knowabout the stairwayup to heaven,and why sliding downthe bannister into hellis much more fun(think i tried to climb a step that wasn't there, think i might have died more than once)
.she saysexplain these thingsto me -i say the silence sort of ticks - my sadnesshas a face, think blue, think black and grey, think sanguinered, the end of may, he had a pulse too strongfor me to take,i killed it, stripped it bare, i carried it rightto it's grave - i say andmy lungs, they feel like frost, they're filled with silverlight and sharpness, rattling pips, a scream - i stayedinside my bed for weeks, i didn't eat, i didn'tdream - i think in fire, flame, volcano,resurrect you, keep your nameinside me like a splinterturning green(i could not bring myself to say yes, but i think you know that)
.a motherstripsthe sheetsfrom her earth -red as dying
.something snappedlike boneand blood floweredon the carpet(i grabbed the hand of that man, and he knew)
mother knows bestI'm sorry for the bumpy ride,I know nine months in a U-haul'snot exactly living the dream.But soon, soon you can unpackyour bags, stretch your cramped limbs,blink those baby-blues and for once-see something besides my heartand soul. Because I was never thebeautiful; inside and out type.(still, i've never tried harder for anyone else)
the truth about growing up1. It's easier when you don't think.1. It starts early,on a cloudy day when you recallthe 'childhood memories' oftwo summers ago,that's when you start your backslide intogrowing up.2. On the bright sideyou won't notice this until you'regood and ripe in age,so maybe it doesn't matteranyway.3. That tightness in your chest?The feeling that you're not readyto take on the rest of your life; itnever leaves.4. It stews in the pit of your stomachmakes you doubt, but there will be days when you look backon the mountains you climbed -the raging rivers you crossed -and you'll have a sneaking suspicion you weremore prepared than you thought.5. There's nothing like your own bed.6. Laundry will never smell rightwithout mom's sweat and tears.But you still have to separate lights from darks,keep the zippers pulled tightand the buttons unhooked.7. There is comfort in your parents' presence.8. Things changethe future gnaws and rips
Apologies to a friendYou pour your heart out to me,and are willingto submerge mein an oceanof loveyet when I see the waterrushing towards me,I convince myselfI don't liketo swim
Railroad TracksYou drawrailroad trackson your wristhoping themetal-made grooveswill takeyou somewherebetterBut these tracksyou're chugging along ononly put youon a trainthat is zoomingtoward a deep,dark tunnelAnd at the end of this tunnel,there is no light.
I am the daughter of a sailor.There is pure sea waterrushing through my veins& my vocabulary can bejust as colorful.But,how do I begin to tell youwe all have jungles growing& growlingin our chests?-Wild, fierce,untouchableby human hands?Sometimes,I like to pretendit’s Draco residingin this chest of mine-his smokeclogging my lungs,choking &suffocating me.I have forgottenhow to writepoetry-or anything with a shredof feeling.I have no space left within myselffor celestial, fire breathing dragons-because I realize nowwhen I look in the mirror,I do not see my father.
.you buried me deep and called it a triumph,but you never realized -I'm a seed.
Keep your secrets, wolfgirl.I have been suffocatingon the stars of my pastlike horny gentlemendo with innocent lookingwolfgirls at 3am- their bitefearless as thieves.My lilac lungs are breathing indust and the tears of Saturn’snameless moons,while the rest of me -well, shes warm off wineand poems leftunfinished.
You only fly for a little whileShe was just four years oldkicking her feetharder and harder,as the swingset creakedand crackedShe finally reached the peak,jumped off,and said,"Mama, I'm gonna fly."and so she did;three feet into the air,sticking the landinglike a gymnastAnd I wonder everydayif those were the same wordsshe mutteredbefore jumping off that bridge,unable to remember,you only fly for a little while.
powerless, and reaching."He's the kind of personwho tells me to 'cheer up'when I'm depressed,"he says, scoffing,and I shake my headand say,"What a useless comment."He chuckles, agrees,but I keep thinking abouthim,about all the "cheer up"sand "just be happy"s he's heard in his life.I want to say "cheer up,"I want my words to magicallycure him, heal him, crush his depressionin a way that no pills ever could,but I know it doesn't work like that.Happiness is not an itemto be obtained with quartersand coupons,it is not a country to travel toin airplanes and sailboats.Happiness is a change in the wind,a flicker from east to westthat cannot be upheld permanently.For him, it is a roadblocked by people who roll their eyesand tell him to get over himself.When I wrap my arms around him,he laughs again,sinks into my body.I think about hollow rooms,sound echoing off the walls.
.green childrenforce themselvesup and outof their beds -the sun smiles,and reaches downto embrace them