"the kaleidoscope of darkness
is also the size of an olive pit,
less of an almond,
more like half a triangle.
si vis pacem para bellum.
if you seek peace, prepare for war.
when the voices in your head
start conversing in vietnamese
you’ll need a second pair of skin:
the largest organ, pretzel pulled."
"on your bed, you sprawl out restlessly
thumbing my words, allowing them to permeate
your mind, and decide that loneliness
does not have to be absolute,
for now, even, just for now,
but the physicality of words
is stale in comparison to the acute
peppery-sweetness of freshly
chopped emerald basil. let me stay,
let me stay with the ease of watercolor"
"ants and ants, but even my subconscious
is not patient enough for your poetry.
my brittle heart is a bobbing turtle’s head,
the tip of my tongue, chalk, whitened from silence.
what is regret but desire for chance — diaphanous
dragonflies and monochromatic confessions. the olive
wind whispers your name in sierra, and i hate
that it haunts me. there is no truth in longing,
only urgency. tonight, the Catalan lights shine
on binary breasts of roses, and still, i live in
the drawers from the burning giraffe"
"adduct: parallel lines never meet
how much of myself do i have
to lose to keep you found?
lines only meet once
what if where i am
is what i need?
"unlike the mortician’s daughter
and her childhood — full
of crepuscular weight
snow flake and oyster spit,
the effortlessness of not
the solitude, looking
forward not having nothing
to look forward to"
"in the country
we’ll go right
ghost of our hands,
the full emptiness
"neurosity is the renter’s
when she becomes
the room; the coconut
filaments of hollow
snakes — folding and unfolding
onto themselves— the fumbling
arrogance, so elegant
"you want to go home to paint,
to find comfort in that public privacy,
then walk around naked
singing gloomy sunday,
not billie holiday’s truffled number,
but the hungarian suicide version
until you can memorize