Wednesday, December 16, 2009

People say friends don't destroy one another, what do they know about friends?

It's all pockets.
Yours, ripped clean through
From a night when we were happy
And I followed you home on your motorcycle
You laid the bike down-- showing off
Circling a monument to a dead villain war hero
The pocket, the only casualty.
My heart lodged between my teeth for an hour afterward
That was when I realized just how much I cared. I didn't tell you.
You wear the pants every day still
A monument to the idea of charmed existence, to lady luck.

And my pocket, now
Where I put these things away:
An owl feather, the damaged lone ranger postcard, the idea of a letter
never sent, Oregon, toy tigers, the good and bad stomach aches, silk
flowers and bolo ties, Bonnie and Clyde...

And so I slip my foot into another pocket
The one on the dash of my timebomb of a car
Knee above shoulder
And I blow out my speakers and my vocal chords
And I sing.

Fuck I miss you.

Thursday, December 10, 2009


I won't pretend. This is a post to say, hey look, I am getting kind of skinny.

Wednesday, December 2, 2009

Rare birds fly south.

A train was rumbling by
And my words pierced the darkness
Can I put my arm on you?
And you grabbed my arm,
Laid it over your chest and held my hand inside of your palm
And out it fell:
I am going to miss you so much.
And you turned to me and agreed, squeezing my thumb, and my heart was so full inside of my chest
I could feel it grazing the inside of my cage of ribs
Prowling in circles, like a captive polar bear
Begging to not be protected anymore, to be set free
Not for long, I said.
I sure hope not, you said.
I still kiss like a walrus, you said.
And I said show me.

When we finally slept at 4am
As one, exhaling body
You put your hands in my hair.
“Goodnight Bonnie.”
“Goodnight, Clyde.”