sticks and stones

love called finding out
answers
in sidewalk chalk
in iced tea pitchers and purple daisies
and boys that cry
and wounds that never quite
close

in empty bottles and styrofoam cups
in horror movies
and curly hair and seeing people
that aren't really there
in dirty water and tin can
music
in seagull wings and chopping
waves and sad goodbyes
and melting spring days
and misplaced keys
and bald car tires
the same song over
15 times
and angry neighbors
and sunstarved thighs
and a little hope
a pirate's rope
a widow wilting through
the kitchen window
and all these cracks
in another's back
and the distance
between two points in time
that's silently
fading away...

the phone was ringing and
someone called my name

friends were preparing goodbye speeches
and the sunlight did its slanting game
through old windows
with white lace curtains
i twisted inside my sleeping bag
on a loveseat half
as long as my body
sleeping in my clothes
like a freight train
left me in its aftermath
my body hurts
the muscles spin under my skin
stretching with a sound like
silk tearing

we look away knowing the day we
see each other again
is not guaranteed
the way your life can be so unpredictable
when someone else holds
the puppet strings

the way your legs just won't seem
to move
when you cut yourself free
learning to walk again
somehow
on your own...

and the rain that licks the acid

its a sidewalk full of regret
too many pins and needles in these
car crash dreams
albino white my bones
drip danger

and my blood beats
out of time

i am standing on the other end of
a telephone line and i am fumbling in my pockets for some
change

i need a connection that won't waste my time
a love or a
good alibi

there's salt stuck to my lips
and i know better than to kiss
for the taste of
new sugar
all white with the snow of
a masochist winter
all braided up in garlic
dreams
the vampires drink me
to put out the fires
in their thirsty throats

i am the diva by default
dressing in pieces of leftover
skin
so that my scars tell the stories
of everyone else i've been

and tonight is a wicked werewolf
at my window
in this house of mirrors
and missing mothers
i wander through the weekend pillars
looking for a fountain
of forgiveness
to wash the wide-eyed worship
from my hands

every new beginning
is a myth made from circles
that never start
or end

hold me with your dirty
hands
pressing fingers in the ground
teasing the roots of every
flower i thought of
when i said
he loves me
he loves me not

the smile breaks red on
the horizon a million miles
from my milky way

sinful shame blasphemy
i pray for you to consecrate me
teach me how to be an enemy
while your mouth moves
all over me

listen to my skin swim
in nights gone by and feel
the shiver up my back as i curl into
the taste of the wind

as we move against the water
the tide sips the sand
and i'm quaking with fever i'm
sinking again

like the missing piece of something
that completes me
your eyes are turning tornados
trying to see
the steam
rising
from the secret spots of me

its the taste i need
betrayed by my greed
gambling on checkerboards
all red and black
blowing away hope
on dandelion heads

i twist into the position
to break the beams
that hold the ceiling
and your heart at its seams.....

weather impaired
my blood moves slow
on days like these on days like these
and the emptiness inside me rivals
the holes your dog has been digging in
the back yard while everyone is sleeping
while everyone is sleeping

and i am awake

with my nomad nonsense looking for
change in the seats of my car
looking for something to keep me alive
love, anger or money
a lack of innocence and hot tea
with honey

and all that i wanted sometimes slips into sand
slips from the sky
slips from my hands
like a phone receiver
when you say things
i can't stand to hear

and i guess i better leave
before things grow vine thick
you're complicated chameleon words
your disappearing trick

cuz someone somewhere likes the feel
of my face
takes pictures while i eat on his couch
and has no time for destiny or fate
an actor with lines
for any occasion
and medicines to make me
the girl he thinks i should be
a little more in love
a little less crazy

i'm saving up these morning minutes
to buy a whole afternoon

the poverty of my sleepstained sheets
shames my soul
and leaves my limbs in an ancient ruin
and i'm farther away
than i've ever been
i'm closer than i've ever been

i watch the highlight films
of sharks swallowing seals
whole

i watch the slow motion milk mirrors
crack and fracture me
into my mother's mind
until i am a girl woman child
left in a cave of catastrophe
in a mystery novel missing the last page
no one is looking for me

no one is looking for me.

the price was right
the jaw forgotten dropping
into an empty fishbowl heading
for the bottom
ten pence
less than mixed flavored incense
tempting my room to tapdance

you were in a 3 piece suit and
i was one rose short of a dozen

could have been an accident
the way your hands jack and jilled
against mine
may have been a circumstance
of disaster
for me to come tumbling after

so let's sweep this under the rug tonight
in the empty bedroom
where the ropes are all tight
and deadends are dangling
everywhere in sight

i once burned byself free of the noose
of your nocturnal needs

well, tonight you look like you might

turn into a pumpkin when the clock strikes twelve
forgive me then
i'm not one to delve into deserts
looking for water

but this thirst is more like an addiction
to taste
and the rain is a ruckus
and i miss your face

i've got all this money
that you won't accept
i wake up to sirens
like a gypsythief suspect
and my fingers are inked
with the black of your ceiling
we share the same spectacles
with knees bound to bleed
from all of this kneeling

but i take turns
between begging and praying
kissing you goodbye
then dreaming you're staying

the hot commodity
imports and exports
you market your heart
and advertise the offer
that i can't refuse
its a 2 for 1 deal down on aisle 7
we'll throw in a free book
on how to get to heaven

well i still believe in most fairy tales
and my bedsheets are lined with softly crushed shells
and the thunder is supper and the rain is my vice
and i'm known for my inate ability to play nice

so drip the drunken dimes
into my poor palms tonight
I need a new toy for my devil's hands
that keep looking for a fight...

is this a moment of truth
or just another moment
when i don't know what to do

the two lanes laid out before me
dead ends detours
and dime store style
stone henge perched in
my pocket

like a landmark
on the moon
i guess that's where i'm headed
we practice snapping our fingers
we practice the art of
self-destruction

that's a game i know
i can always win

they ask me

and i stumble through pink checker
board summer
sneaking up from behind burning bushes....

i glance absentmindedly at the
white line on my wrist
where the rope used to weave
pieces of you
around
me

and its been so long since
there was a heartbeat
that could echo
the sound of my chestdrum
or a voice
on the end of the line
that brought out the
innocence in me

so i read up on sylvia
and anne
remember the french doors
and hands on my face
looking for secrets in my skin
not that it was anything more than
misplaced affection

and he told me how the moments
tremored with the aftershocks
of a girl that wasn't me
but not to take it personally

an actor by trade smudging up
sick girls into storybook bandages
injected with sympathy, empathy and anger

i used to dream of nothing but your breath
and walk backwards down the darkened streets
in new orleans
and i could almost feel your hand in mine
i drug along your ghost
to every above ground cemetery i could find
and wrote you songs
when i can't sing
married your mirage in my mind
next to an oak tree
with an old tire swing
and we dripped our eloquence
into each other
stuttered under stars
and pretended to deep sea dive
in each other's emotional clutter

and i've seen you broken
heard you turn inside out
pouring your soul into a toilet bowl
felt the floor shiver under the weight
of your metallic shout
you called me names
ripped me apart
we've kissed and made up
you once drew me
on rice thin paper
a lop sided #22 heart

and ive been in love with you for so long
past the goodbye and straight into
her eyes

i've coaxed my hunger in love songs
threatened to metamorphosize
into a blackwinged angel
charred from wax wings that cook in the sun
i've opened my skin
to let emptiness in
i've hidden my hope
from everyone...

and so this is what love is made of
time tempered with the steel teardrop
of hope
a little less anger
a little less distance
and one tiny piece leftover
of a burned up bracelet
of rope.

i have become a cliche
writing about my own sorry
broken hearted heathen headed
no room to move or breathe
self

i have grown increasingly insensitive
and taken to using overused phrases
spending hours in the greeting card aisles
blowing the fluff off dandelions
and telling people
to "have a nice day"

i have taken to staring aimlessly
into the distance
which really just means looking down the
street and the rich ladies pushing $500
strollers
with their spoiled children
tucked safely inside
watching future assholes of america
arrogantly toss lacrosse
balls back and forth
or fliptrick skateboards
in the intersection of maple
and 1st street
in some sunny uncracked sidewalk
suburb
in america

i eat three meals a day
wash my car on sunday
shower, shave
skim the paper
consider important things like
what i am doing
where am i going
and who will i be when i get there
i drink iced tea
and barbecue
because its summer
and the sale papers tell me
what season to shop for
maybe i'll have a hot dog
and complain about the humidity
buy a hammock
from mexico

it costs them pennies to make
and i really need to

relax

and later when the stars come out
i'll move inside where there's recycled air
conditioned
put on a disney movie for the kids
so they leave me alone
drink a glass of wine
and wish
i was someplace
else

what was there

some longing

some phone calls

some misunderstandings, misinterpretations

some lonely fingers
trying to make sign language
words
on illiterate hands

some missed chances
brightly glimmered glances

messes and markmanship
from broken arrows

tornado tantrums
taken to heart
falling into plush pillows
falling apart

converging conversations
unrequited loveletters
freshly fed daisy vases

mud puddles splashing
footsteps pounding
pulsing
sliding on wooden stairs
a distant crashing

lipstick and needles
bracelets and beer
fathers and mothers
and mothers of fathers
and the crossroads of love
and fear

and a lonely blackbird
perched in my chest
that won't let my heart move
and won't let my
hope
rest...

someday i won't
drive around
lost in a strange town
listening to the radio
tears streaming down my face

you told me so

someday i won't feel an
empty space at my wrists

in my heart

where you beat so strong
so lifelike

and i'll recognize every constellation
but yours
i won't be converting
money
or time
or temperature
by habit

i'll forget your phone number
your stories
your laugh

the names of your friends
your justwokenup voice

the birthday balloons
the books we both read
the apologies and the times
you called me the thing
i hate to be called

the emails will be long since deleted
the countdown the courage the
corsages of roses
or petal painted sheets
of a valentine dream
will be taken over
by the reality
of distance
and the dead end nature
that always was
you and i

i'll see crossword books and
not think of your mother
and how she told me things
my own mother never could

how she wanted me
in her life
when my own mother
never did

the way you
in the end
never did...

i've been wondering when
time is the enemy of
every one of my imaginary
friends

i blink you in and out of
my life again
i bleed you through these holes
in the palms of my hand

you never neeeded to know
if i was gonna get up again
razorblades in my pocket
and that angelanger grin
wings that flap impatiently
leaning against the wind

a telephone in the middle of nowhere
you put your loose change in
just to see if i would answer
when the moon grew opalthin

cyanide blue my lips come true
in a snow white glass coffin
sleeping all this time away
the race of the century
the dark horse and me
and the only prize
i ever really wanted to win

6th grade spelling bee
champion
in love with broken knees
unspoken chivalries
and a childsize, euthanized
grin

give me some time
to learn this rhyme
to figure out where i've been

i may be a mermaid at heart
but i still close my eyes when i swim

no more rain
no more november laughing
through my veins
i'm taking this step
away from you
growing groveling
looking for my shoes

bees in the kitchen looking for
the honey
that someone stole last summer
like gobs of golden money
wolves in the pantry
waiting for the chickens
clucking out their
whereabouts
as this predictable plot
still thickens

karma chameleons
change their colors
to suit their new
careers
antfarm acrobats
tunneling through
each other's fears

but who will hold
your babyboy
when your arms have grown
too tired
spinning webs of what could have been

the broken jaw stays wired

and the words are all but mumbled
the cards you meant to send
someone's hallmark lies
are easier to defend
but your handwriting held the
hopes
of a girl without a home
a promise of a lifelong love
written in barely black
the only true color you've shown

and i don't like to sound so bitter
it cramps my fingertip sound
i breathe in dandelion dust
kiss dying women
when no one's around
the movie of your covered skin
plays over in my mind
the music of your madly brushed hair
cricket rubbed against mine
the time you hugged me
in front of your house
and said that
prophetic goodbye
so...
obviously i should
get rid of these green and blue
envelopes
unlicked by the lips of
your lionbled tongue

why can't i then?

why can't i?

caffeine california
eyes
late to bed
early to rise
i drove from mile marker one to one hundred
and sixty five
rolled down all the windows
just to feel alive
drove down to the fogfed beach
but didn't go outside
the cold in the air
was a winterwarning
that gave my warmspringblood
a scare

i sliced the globe into
these dice
9 sides and dots
to spare
rolled them once
rolled them twice
looking for a pair

but thats the fallacy of formulating
a plot
with people who aren't there

that's the lesson of giving your candy
to the kid
who never learned
to share

invisible lines in the pavement
breaking me down

into particles of grey

its one of those days

i spent three hours getting to know
the opposite of heartbreak

i struggled with the ropes
the hold my wrists
hostage

my eyes are blind in summertime
the curse of palegreen
unable to refract the light
i squint and turn away

and we make plans for sunday
sell our sandcastles for a
fortune in wet clay
as if i was a sculpter
and could melt you into
a hero for another day...

randy stopped me on the sidewalk
outside the pet shop

and he said that i started out
smaller than a dot on his watch
and do you know what you are now

what, i say

a miracle

we were on our way to the bagel shop
a dozen and the thirteenth is free
someone i thought was mean
smiled unexpectedly

in the pet shop the parrot said hello
hi
and goodbye
but never could seem to look me
in the eye
i fell in love with a baby green iguana
and tried not to let life
make me cry

no one's looking for me anymore

they just nod nonchalantly
as i drive on by

looking for someplace
that looks like home

or a believable alibi

maybe i'll head back to the beach
and soak up some of the endless sky

listen to the boy who plays his $10 guitar
and give up my dreams for a while

blanketskies
just waking up with
sleepy eyes
artificial sweetener
sticking to my thighs
lips around the roses and
a morningmade disguise
it makes no sense to
compromise
if no one
wants
what you've got
maybe its time to realize
the difference in danger
between truth
and twice-told lies

i walked in the rain on a fence rail
back and forth at the beach
an old man in a pick up truck
parked with his wife
singing along to country songs
as i paced
back and forth with paper
and pen
scribbing sacraments
to where i always go wrong
babies sleeping in the backseat
the rain splattered the ink
inter watercolor blue
and i almost cried
over you

blow the dandelion
let the future unfold
i held infinity in a grain of
sand
that's something only
a poet
or child
can do

but maybe a poet
is a child
refusing to grow up
to grow old
just growing inside
while the body stays
the same size
and the layers inside
the cells and veins and
molecules rumble and rage
on their tiny tracks
building building
tearing down
the pieces
and building something new

that's what i'm learning
to do

and the day is picture perfect
the grass ticklegreen
my toes bare
the warm spring air
peach iced tea in the pitcher
hardwood floors and the cinnamon smell
of wildflowers and weeds

the dryer tumbles overalls
clanking and churning
over the sounds of crunchy peanutbutter
and raspberry jam
a baseball glove
next to a ball

red seam perfect

like few other things
manmade

backdoor open
the breeze and leaves
fluttering through me

interrupted

by an unexpected invitation
from the ocean

when did i last
hear your voice
and sink down into my pillows

with a sigh

i'm sure someone could
answer the question
with a reasonable degree
of accuracy

and the butterflies in my stomach
that crush and coerce
the blood to pulse just a little
faster
behind my ears
the faceflush

surely there must be a graph
or chart
that shows the probabilities
the worst case scenario

of dividing my time between
death defying acts of danger
rings of fire
and daydreaming
of dancing
with you

some people are meant for fiction
lying eyes and political smiles
handshakes and pockets big enough
for a knife 12 inches long

some people are buried in facts
encyclopedic minds and a memory of
every foreign war

and what do i know of the biology of
believing
cumulonimbus clouds clumping
into dashes of rain

i have four silver letters engraved at my neck
seashells at my left wrist
bluegreen beads at my right
my feet are cracked open from
a million steps
away from home
and i'm losing pieces of me
one airplane at a time

i heard a song with my name
someone wrote to pin down my pain
butterfly wings and breakable things
porcelain powder and tire swings
a list of my crimes three miles long
i can't remember

the name

of the song.

the garden is overgrown this year
the key to the secret door
hidden in the pickpockets

too much time lays in your hands when the moon won't blink or shy way

when the saddest songs never cease to play

i saw the pricetag on your face and
didn't have the money to pay

i couldn't look at you
and i couldn't look away

i measure my fingers against the palm
of your hand

so much bigger than mine

i looked for buried treasure
by every sunken ship

never wondering if someone
would steal mine

why is loss
the measure of love
the distance between the planets
stirring the black sky
from above
the songs I could sing about
the sting of the pavement on my knees
before i felt the bully shove

because bones are made to be broken
lives are a blink of years
and hearts are a fragile token
of what the mind can fathom
what a color can mean
how a small town girl
can fall in love with a face
on a bigscreen

how the ocean runs through my
invisible veins
turning me blue
and green

today it was one of those unspoken things

more felt
than heard
or seen

so much can be fit into a nutshell
stories and riddles and fortune cookie crumpled paper
from sticky children's fingers
at the chinese buffet 2,000 miles
from home where the asian ladies
with farrah fawcett hair
hover and hide
jumping up to steal your plate away
at the merest sign of hands
on your underthetable lap
rice paper candy brings back
nine years of summertime
green grass and a big pot of chili
home made ice cream we all took turns
turning the crank
the taste of rock salt
the smell of vanilla
and the dare to eat a chunk
of cayenne pepper the size
of a robin's egg
my dad with hair longer
than my mom's
an old pickup broken down in the grass
the swedish neighbors with their
white haired children and
the forest closing in all around
thick pine trees traded in for
family heirloom bruises
that linger colorless
under the skin
and the silver tinge
of fingernails fading
streaks of sunset in copper coiled
hair that tosses and turns on
a flowered pillow
2,000 miles from home
next to sticky fingered baby boys
clutching crumpled fortunes
too big to fit
in nutshells