Tuesday

I am terrified for you from love of you.
frequently casually cruel
sleep late, I stay up till early
weeping with exhaustion and fear.

I wasn't born patient
and I won't be kind tomorrow
I'll relapse
apologize
grasp you with both hands
a blind woman,
searching tangled covers
for a physical band aid to slap my burning eyes.

Love Letter, Rough Draft

When she comes home
I want to keep her up all night
Like the teenage boys I imagine her rejecting
In the perfect world this isn't.

Woman

Too soon to call?
I'm unsure
But too late,
so go to bed to
uncurl the boy ball

I dreamt
we were all together
dressed in black
eating dinner

Woke alone
sans headache
I'm gonna swallow this pulse
pounding temple pressure
digest your name
write it on the mirror
In every town I leave you for.

I'm Going to Burn Down the Midwest.

when she leaves
I want violent expulsions
heated eye and throat liquids
I try to hold it
and don't quite make it
even in the biggest boots.

Both of You

You are so necessary
to US.

Least of All Here.

They've got faces full of metal
Firework hair
The never never land wraiths
I love so much
I became one
explode into being
Stars on acid
leaving fast as coming
It isn't small at all
Or ever explained well.

Sunset Trees

JD are the initials of my favorite poet
And a liquor I don't like
My sister hates the poet
but she likes the liquor

I've lost every copy of that small red book I ever had
And I've had several
But I haven't lost the snapshot
Of my sister reading poetry
On a warm to chilly tombstone
Before I broke her heart.
She drinks more since I moved
And I worry
afraid of a tomb full of regrets

Are you experienced?
We will be.
We will be.
We will be,
before we meet again.
But at least we'll meet again.

you're not worthless

Nothing sings:
the dead of winter is not a pretty phrase.
Sleepless exhaustion reigns.

This long line of girls striving
to look younger than they've been for years
drugging themselves
they got to get through
the job
night
minute
man.
All married,
insufficient.
Secrets steeped in alcohol,
children uneducated as lovers.
But spring comes to both sides of asylum.

When I hear a song I like
It's rare I am not the originator.
When I look at your face everything sings.