Sunday, November 25, 2012

nesting our way to reach airplane wings
don't know where we're going, hope
it's far away

life streaming in holusbolus
don't mind the sun's glare, he's always been
on a warpath of coveting the living

Saturday, October 20, 2012

Uncertain lonely

Until I remember you
have gone. To find
Somebody new.
a richness of marten,
an obstinacy of buffalo,
a romp of otters,
and a shrewdness of apes

a listing of numbers,
a listing of beats,
a listening of 

lost sometimes in the dark conventions of a heart

S - a Capricorn,
I - a Taurus,
J - a Gemini,
Tyler's a Virgo

[M - a Pisces, but only just; C - an Aquarius]

thinking about how I always loved you
and never in the way you wanted

You're hard to run with

telltale, my pulse in my fingertips
buryable and shot with sienna shot
with bittersweet blush

giveaway widened eyes
eyebrows high before you can slow
them up, slow them cool

toes tapping typewriter time
tossing rhythm about, a plaything, the running cadence
of your breath, of your bloodbeat, of pavement underfoot

we can't see past the pathway bends
and I don't feel compelled to know
this time

Friday Rose

a young man gave me a rose (on Friday)
after the laughingest time I'd had with him
it's going to die, anyway he muttered (as an excuse,
as an introduction) to the rose
everything dies was my consolation in exchange
it's the best flower I've ever been given
made sweet not by scent but by
lack of expectation, 
lack of anticipation,
the goodness-just-for-goodness that was
his motivation
I perched it in a teacup in the windowsill at home

Wednesday, September 12, 2012

For Consideration

Just some things to think about, not really poetry, but still material:
I guess everyone needs validation, but compliments from you are a special treat.
Everyone wears pajamas at some point, so equality.
Journals are even an unfair account, because you cannot possibly write down everything, and also they can be self-conscious, although they shouldn't be.

Tuesday, August 14, 2012

Fragile #2

here we have the mystery of flamingos
a half-way love far in Germany
and the pleasant scent of lemon
all balancing precariously on the very tip of my tongue
I don't know which direction to push

Saturday, August 11, 2012

Fragile #1

there is a certain symmetry
butterfly wings,
egg yolks,
and sailors
a delicate/filmy/encompassing symmetry

Friday, July 27, 2012

Fragile #4

I can't feel my toes when I run in snow
but my lungs come alive
and my heart glows in my breath
I think that's all that matters


maybe I like to walk on sand for the glow that uncertainty gives me
the smallest grains of stone slipping away beneath my feet
maybe I am tired of being so certain
soft imprints on a beach full of cutting shells, broken glass, nigh-perfect smoothed rocks
you can't tell what kind of footprints, only that something walked there
the one who holds certainty for everyone
not made inconsequential by the size of the grains
well, have you ever tried to sweep away the beach
small things don't make lesser problems
and I've tried being the uncertain one [ha.]
the same way tides wash away marks, the place my trust should be
fills in with sand and weltschmerz
                                                        [a word which here stems from
                                               strain forever placed on the reflexive
                                    persuasion, unflinching assurances,
                          like a muscle taxed too long in one hold,
                                                        afforded to those surrounding me]
credit is due, because twice or thrice I have
let my hidden guards down to be met with a cradle
high-beach sand, dry, packed, purified by wind, steadied by grasses
safety net cradling a line, It Will Be Okay
brief respites of rest to re-center, re-cross, re-construct
splinters of time where I can balance on the shifting ground of
support that is almost sufficient
an almost-perfect spiral shell, a sad surprise of blackened sea creature
more often I hold myself
caught with the knowledge that best is sometimes not enough
making me remember to keep pushing
so much like playing tag with the tide
it's always this choice, the same
there will be no dodging
there is a tantalizing bribery of natures
to be presented at the end
sweeten your disposition to sweeten the deal
selling out for a lack of danger
exactly the size for folding in of selves
an implosion of value

Tuesday, July 10, 2012

Utah landscapes

lavender fields

shimmery-salt-dirty lake

golden stubble acres strewn with cows/llamas/sheep/horses

sagebrush studded     
       brown dirt
   desert juniper blessed miles

 Utah lake, Utah cloudscapes,
        inescapable sunset eyecandy

blue, bluest blushing brilliant
   sky, open freedom skies

altogether a little
  raw around the edges
  and under the surfaces
  shooting raw into our
  hearts, our veins, wrapping
  wild around our spines

dry dusted summer skin

cool windy wild canyons

lucid star slipstream towing a luminous hopeful moon

Moore, OK, 2:30 AM

too bright
too much light
asking unravelly yarn brain
snagged on my request
warm red winter sweater
cold grey metal fence
metal request
trying to furnish warmth
uncomfortable, itchy parallels
         don't do this, don't just
      no more patterns
17 and never even ever
wasting wishes on petty things
war in the world and
occupied with this?
focus on this?
too much. too much.

Tuesday, June 26, 2012

once upon a time
(when you are swallowed by despair and exhaustion
and stumble into waterflow)
when you can't see because of dark and blurred extrapolations
you will discover, perchance:

when your ability to will
 yourself to stand is overshadowed by despair
when your balance is broken
 down by the keen edge of too many hours alert 
you will lean into the tiled wall of your shower
    maybe you will slide down gently,
    (so-slight friction on so slick a surface)
    pretending that the wet on your face
    is water, just water, tap water
maybe you will not
    maybe you will just stand
    an abject angle
    slowly carefully recovering
because it is enough, a wall,
enough to have learned the simple generosity
the honest-undemanding support
offered by a wall
into which you are able to lean
   no questions or favors asked of you

Saturday, June 16, 2012

In the same vein:

I feel whole,
    no wandering
    lost last pieces
    of me
        no chasing,
        no taming,
        no trying or timing

right as rain
bright like rainbow
bowl balancing
two feet down on the ground
but head
wrapped up in cool smooth clouds

“This is about my someday daughter, already stung stained with insecurity begging, ‘Mom, will I be pretty?’ I will wipe that question from your mouth like cheap listick and answer, ‘No, the word pretty is unworthy of everything you will be and no child of mine will be contained in five letters. You will be pretty intelligent, pretty creative, pretty amazing, but, you will never be merely pretty."

Katie Makkai
head tipped back
hands wrapped around rope
falling dreams
and summer things
and how I want eternity
the things I want to say are crowding hidden in the air
hitting nerves and drawing sounds out
like a tight-tuned tinker's toy piano
and the beauty lost as fumbling past edges you glint on by
and how the joy you feel is never more than the pain
pain as currency, Pain as more alive
living lies in lieu
a debt we pay for happiness
I will not shun the scythe

Monday, April 30, 2012

two days in
chin up, eyes down
blink your eyes and
     do not miss her
think of all the things you see
     when she gets back, we will take tea
i am wide and narrow
write to-do lists to stay slow

The Picture of Dorian Gray

The studio was filled with the rich odor of roses, and when the light summer wind stirred amidst the trees of the garden there came through the open door the heavy scent of the lilac, or the more delicate perfume of the pink-flowering thorn.

(an excellent way to start the first chapter)

Sunday, April 1, 2012

On Fri-the-day in Physics
we spent all trying on movie scripts
cutting them down, wrapping them around our calves like
shin-guards, tight and vaguely reassuring
 And have I read it? just the first
You tell me juice instead of grey
I wish you best but do not say so
a woman makes a cup of her heart, and in that way I hear
how he came home to
a surprise celebration of Gerald
(tunes with mountains and bears)
the hell's bells man, what a sweet sound
they were
some kind
of astounding

Tuesday, March 13, 2012

Ninoryck root

 we made sandwiches with our hair-
trickling braids-down-our-backs
 no plant blocking sunlight
  plugging lungs
   licking egg-whites
 lined up linoleum
  lotion with lanolin stolen from lambs
lion-gold tresses dirtied yellow at the ends
    (and I long for softrounded
     pencil chalk draw-
     ings oozing out ink
     ink bred from sin)
 dull knife pulling hand
  slick snick-snaring mayonnaise 
matching up with our very own teeth
 we slept willy nilly king
-style medley up our dreams
   with oil etchings
carving sweet ninoryck
    (and it was a good breakfast
     to be had at morning 12
     knowing like the moon did
     that for a dance of wheels
     a crown may glow)

Thursday, February 23, 2012

Fibonacci and Why I Love Walden

This is all old stuff. It was for a math final, of all things. 

Evades my grasp
I'm left to wonder and wallow

In my mind, echoes and hollow
Mix together

Place in order
My thoughts or things inside them now

I have to name the why and how
Of things long since

Oh, Babylon
Lush gardens soaking rooftop sun
Rich markets trading silks, gold, silver, perfume, frankincense and myrrh

Oh, Babylon
With secret riches gleaming
In your city streets so teeming with vibrant life and luxury

Oh, Babylon
My heartstrings twang at thoughts of you
And the sorry ages that will pass after you are dry ruins

Dry and
Empty passages
Beckoning for me, papyrus
Knowledge lining halls,
Scrolls filed,
Full of

Gang Rumble
Aren't kind
To those who trade blood
To make a living, to survive

Flipping wide
Spilling wet scarlet
Onto rough, uncaring concrete

Half-formed pleas
Crying 'No, not me,'
Ignored because they should have known

My fears
In the air, condensed
Congealed, and beat me into pulp
I lay suffocating on the ground as Hope looked on
She gave me a broken smile
Getting into fights
Wasn't her

Fairy Tale
Raven-black, snow-white, bloody red
Princess hair, skin, lips
If she knew
Would  she

Broke up
With Markus
Mint-cherry ice cream
Chick flicks, used kleen-ex on the floor

Sunday, January 29, 2012


For K:

As I was sitting,
  legs lotus-folded (like human origami)
Listening to your message
Thinking how your wry wit always
  sends trickles of glory into my laugh

As I was listening,
 ears cold without the warmth
Of your conversation to heat them
I wished for your kind of company,
  like a museum in the rain

And I was thinking
I don't know what this means

I was searching for evidence
 like a deaf man for music
Or perhaps more like a dust mote
 looking for home

Perhaps more like a map
 Embossed vellum with names of
Places etched meaningfully
 With red dotted trails leading
Looping and folding back into themselves
 Except the X is absent

I was looking for meaning
 in the ideas we'd shared
And here is the truth, I do not
 twinge with dolorousness
 I do not keep souvenirs of you

You will find no evidence of the time
          (chalk-dusted fingerprints on cold glass)
Spent with me until you
          (hush and behold the mystery)
 reach to discover moments
          (hidden and higher than most)
Stacked tall in my memory
          (tip the shelves in the library, it all tumbles down)