sticks and stones

i saw fireworks from the freeway
foreshadowing the explosions
of light and shadow
when you kissed me

blank blink work to do
to be done
and a girl with the weight of the world in her
hair
rolling balls of twine
from string that isn't there
memorizing the lines
about all in love and war
being fair

peanutbutter cookies
criss crossed
like a heart
that lies
beating the believing
into mine
happens all the time...

bananas
broke in half
blood oranges
bashed
into pulp
a recipe for fashionable passion
sangria for the soul
i left early
and smiled my way through a rush hour
of bad habits
waiting for a break in traffic
to tempt me into merging
measuring the miles
with a mouth full of songs

6:30 a.m. ringing of telephone tantrums
he needs to talk and i need to sleep
but i listen anyway
slice me into halfhearted advice
knowing the favor will
never be returned
and semi honest men make mice
of best laid plans and roads and highways
train tracks towers
tornado shelters
dug underground

battlesounds and forgotten things
i was supposed to do a procrastination
of salvation
linked to the thoughts of haunted dreams
a boy who was nothing he seemed
and the way the tears still stream
my hands so white they get lost in steam
somewhere between sandwiches baked into bread
and tapioca time outs
the sun slants sideways through
the dusty blinds
the tv hums
the radio drones distantly
and the girls who dance in the rain
disco drop their wet wishes
into my carpet
tiptoeing through the sunflower seeds
the landmines of luggage
laundry baskets
broken toys
clothes hangers hooked on hips
of other mothers trapped in the
white washed walls

a barrage of guilty grammar
sliding down my thighs
blackstretched fabric falling down
in solidfalls
and white dream dahlias dinner plate
papercut and crisp
clean
cookie cutter
albino cupid with broken off
arrows
deep in my chest
shot six times
saved by the 7th day
when even treachery
must rest...

colorblind
catch22 the cat's in and out of the cradle and this room
has turned into
a

z
o
o

borrowed blue ingenue

i had a penny but i traded it
for two

now i'm hungry
my mouth my lips
my heart my hands
my hips
my hair
my achilles heels
hidden in each shoe

monday mocks the sun i bled
the sunset staked on ground of snake
slid soil
my tent is pitched in the back of my throat
and i'm rubbing together
these sticks
sniffing the air for smoke
calibrating the friction
with the heat
gulping gasping gallons of
gambled glass
trying not to choke

i trapped you with a net i made
instead of sleeping in that satin parade
and snuggled you with my two tone
rope

i'm a wrangler of wreckless proportions
all spoons no fork no french veranda volume
in my spiritsprung syndicate
watch for me on cable tv
when everyone else falls asleep

gallavanting with the ghosts in my closet
dancing through doorways
with no doors
no locks
no keys
bridge accidents fuel
these phobias that keep you away from me
have you seen
(someone who looks like) me lately?

funeral invitations fabricated from leftover
leaves
mourning mothers whispering
in the trees
wailing without voices
boxcar bandits
hiding with the bees
selfishly licking the lemonflowers
no patience for the
minute miracle
of pollen poured
through combs of creature
comfort for a queen
who has no outside
rendezvous
or lack of apathy
everyone wants to taste
the anticipationgold
of cloverclingingstickygleaming


my grandma gathered broken comb and crushed
through cheesecloth
the captured concubine
cubicles
bursting with blasphemous honey...

god told me once
he wished he had
a daughter
that looked
like me.

i wanna eat chicken and tell you jokes
roll around on the floor
and hula hoops to hip hop hits
from the early 80s
i'm inconsolable
artificially efficient
i have no palm pilot
or caffeine pills
i want a desk by the window so i
can daydream differently
daredevil describe things
i wasn't meant to see
i wanna get me a little
oblivion
i wanna jump rope til my feet bleed
i wanna give in to some shotgun greed
follow you around and bark at your heels
hum a million lovesongs
sew my fingers to the windowsills
situp straight in bed and say
so now what
then lay back down

slowly

i want to crack the door of my heart open
as i softly slam
my
eyes
shut

in some strange ways there are never any words i can use to believe to make believe to make you believe the inner workings of this cyanideprincess caveconquered queen in between love scene

and if you feel so (musically) inclined
sit on my front steps and we'll spin stars into cotton
or candy

pink and blue

the obsession with colors with red and green lights with yelllow

lines on the highway

and the color of cars

the bigbird billboard

the blue latex glove dirty on the sidewalk in patient
proximity to the dead lizard
curled like an unfurled fern
as i walk down the broken sidewalk
to my car
to escape the dentaldanger
of a mouth that hurts too much
to speak
i tell you things
with my eyes and hands

your eyes are soft someone said
i bet they looked that way when you were five
and i said
i don't remember
and i don't know anyone that would

and the dying leaves in summer
the bruised petal flushing blushing from
green to red that i cradled in my palm
like a fortune telling fish

and all night i dreamed of someone wearing your voice
the hair was all wrong and the bed i slept in was eight feet off the ground
no wonder i was late to work
(again)
no wonder i never called back

they miss me
the seahorses
the monkeys
the jewels i refuse to put on my fingers
the childhood friends i never had
the family
i disown with distance
like vampires they can't come in
unless i invite them
unless i invite them
unless i invite them

i am she and she is me and we are three of a kind a trinity trilogy apathy atrophy we are

winged and wild in the ways only wednesday will allow

today was the same as another she used to be when wednesday was full of me and I was full of destiny i was sailing sinking ships with a grin and waiting for someone to teach me to swim...

that alarm clock cracked open and spilled out songs while i was singing with my hands against my skin in a shower of insolence and soap raspberry scented screams i was wet hair and lavender childlaughing and wrists about to bleed and mr. jones came on the radio from the clock radio that woke up cameron sleeping next to my warm place in my bed an empty she

and she was late to work she had no change for parking she put in ten dollars so she wouldn't get towed and she tripped hopped skipped to work in a pink skirt saving her sexy shirt for later for when time sticks to the roof of your mouth and she was cotton candy pink legs bare shoes black hair down curling calling cascades and ripples of smileshine the wind blew we walked me and the new girl to the parking lot man you should try and nevermind so we played and paid and he knew my name from the soft way i walk as if darkness were under my feet but the sun was shining and that's all it took to get me off the hook.

and we walked to the bank and we walked back to work and we walked two steps at a time and her eye is black underneath or purple bruise broken and i never said anything to hurt her to hurt them another she lost in the shipwreck of someone else's imagination but she told me today uninvitedly that this is a birthmark and how strange is that to be marked at birth with a black eye to never have the anonymity of you and i a she stained with sorrow.

she never stopped to eat lunch she clung to the goosebumps she let the wind shatter against the windows and she was alone and she she she never stopped to wonder why and she dialed over and over again waiting for someone to listen to her cry...

but she is an envelope of anger and invisible lines and she needs to be heard through more than telephone lines and she knows what comes next and how the past keeps time
as the sand slips
lazily
taking what's yours
and leaving what's mine...

so there I was in the jungle of my life oversleeping not thinking didn’t do laundry and the morning hit me blindside up I screeched from bed and nothing was wrong but nothing was right.


there I was in the jungle of my living room pizzaboxes and futon mattress blocking the doorway ragged couch missing two of its three cusions and sleeping son in a tablecloth just like jared used to use a tablecloth for a blanket…ahhh jared where have you gone with your pleasuredome and shorthaired chiropractor future wife, future daughter future way of looking at the future that I can’t seem to learn?


there I was on the front porch wondering where the hairbrush went and shivering in a sudden wind, stepping back inside for my jacket stepping back to the concrete porch offering a neck to cameron’s little arms so I could ferry him to the car with his shoes and socks in his figment hands aged three and a half.


so there I was in the jungle of cars making my way down a narrow street with a red car no burgundy everyone says I look good in burgundy way too close behind as if the speed limit weren’t 20 or I was the leper of carfleeing commuters for obeying and I stopped to wonder if my tire was still seeping air.


and the time is late I am running running running late the daycare with the pink door I should have known he wouldn’t have his shoes on I should have known I wouldn’t actually get up extra early and go in to work extra early and get extra caught up and be extra relaxed and extra relieved I should have known a lot of things but I am nothing if not blessed with blinders blessed with blood that pumps too faintly to be heard with the naked ear or felt in the wrist look for my blood pressure I have none my heart is sneaking and pumps like an oozemachine in an undulating impression of a bellows and there’s nothing here that even resembles a flame.


so there I was in the toll booth line there I was merging in traffic there I was switching the stations using the bathroom too many times there I was under fluorescent lights there I was eating lifesavers and praying to the white rim of a coffee cup because god reminds me of a circle god reminds me of a bitemark in an apple god reminds me of lifesavers melting on my tongue.


so there I was working fighting falling there I was with carpal tunnel there I was being edged out of my job by a new girl a helper don’t worry your job is not being threatened (unless you really make me mad) don’t worry be happy don’t worry about the papers piling up under your feet don’t give the night a chance to see you shake you know they smell fear not just dogs but people too you know they smell indecision and hesitation you know they can taste your significance they can feel the rustle of your breath and know you are afraid.


so there I was in the jungle of Tuesday tempting time to tell me I’m late but where to now? wrong turns take me into ten minutes later and she waits knowing I’m consistently inconsistent, she waits to tell me I’m crazy and crazy costs money and where do we start when we build the fences where do we start when we tear them down where do you start when you write stories about other people’s lives and you have no more tissues so you know better than to start to cry. you’re hooked up to the polygraph of principle so you know better than to lie. you know they all want a piece so you know better than to look them in the eye.


there I was in the jungle with a machete of my left hand held at a sharp angle slicing through strep throat and serpents stitched into rainbow arcs, I had been dead for days but still slept soundly breathing burdens catapult one two the lungs leak and lemons drop from branches where my alibis sleep


the jungle hides the secret colors in a code of camoflauge I cringe to know how high I’d fall if anyone could catch the innuendo of the inside of my skin still tattood with the mark of midnight madness.

between loyalty and obligation
and its
a thick line between forgiveness and fate
its a thick line between my palms and my arms
where the scar tissue waits
its a thick line between chivalry and misery
between girls who cringe
when you kiss them
and boys who never cry
between violence and circumstance
between an orphan
and an alibi
the line grows thin as crescent moon
between sympathy and sanctuary
the camel's back so close to breaking
and the bundles of butchered blessings
you carry
the line thickens like braided rope
spun into compass cages
waiting for the unknown soldier
to be pressed into a name between pages
it's a thick line of seconds between
the lightning and the thunder
the sprinkled salvation on an infant forehead
and the wave that pulls you under
its a thick line on maps, unnatural
boundaries that hearts dare cross
between the fear of losing
and the actual loss
between hope and heaven
a trio of sixes or the fortune of seven
between the right and the wrong
side of the tracks
its a thick line between
anticipation
and a surprise attack
the criss cross cracks
a wire hanger
can make in a child's back
it's a thick line between black plastic
trash bags
and white satin purses
the coins that clang against each other
and the paper presidents
whispering curses
its a thick line of god's pencil
etchasketching his will while we wait
tightrope tripping along the wire
and it's a thick, blurry line
between
love
and hate.

carnival colors on
the treble bass tears of a
covered
claystained clown
we stand in a circle
staring at a hole
in the ground
blackjackets fog
framed veils
and the rain
that forgets
to float down
goodnight little one i said
in the middle of a windshield
wiped wednesday
because that's what my
grandma
who can't wake up
to hear my heartbeat
breaking
in my vicks vapor-rubbed chest
would always say...