Little shop of (body) horrors


too-soft skin smoothed over
strange, cloying, fat
forming false effigies
and burying, without
prodigal muscles clinging to
ill-fitting skeleton
occupying [wall street]
Or loitering, hoping (praying)
for a ride to a
more ( ) body
with mind in alignment
without rotors
warped and brakes
shaking when applied


Send as a private message

I still suck at watching Buffy,
but I think about you every goddamn day and
I named my guitar after you but
maybe it hurts to hold
and I love you and that is all
for the moment.


I wish you to utter the most joyous fucking leaves imaginable.


I stole that last line from a fanfic but the words are true and
I want
to only say true things to you except when
I want
to bleed you beautiful fantasies in case that might make them real.
I think
no words are wasted on you because you
lay words to waste with your voice and your art
the way you move through spacetime,
a bloody astronomical anomaly.


I saw Anomalisa with our poet and
we cried in our proximal seats but
I couldn’t attend to the plot because the images and
sometimes that is how I felt just being around you but
your bike is in my shed and then-


my sense of time is tearing at the edges between my toes and in the corners of my eyes-


where I want you to see crow’s feet one day


please share in a private mess with me
again and I will feather down the stairs to
sit beside you on concrete steps
shivering silent in an alternate ‘verse
where we are both content,

the way my plaid shirt is content-
on the arm of a couch
thrown over a book that I stopped
reading when you walked
into the closet doorway of my
cringing spirit and whispered:



Cut flowers

Pardon me,
if I should fall
to you
for you
with you?
As an autumn oak leaf
lulled low by the gravity in your eyes
to cashmere-touch your familiar skin.

(Have I been here before?)
(Have you?)

Struck shy
we glance toward and away
as though afraid
we will catch each other looking.
Of course we are looking.
It’s not a fucking locker room.

Or is it?

Squinting from the shock
of bright Pixar lamp lights,
dazzling and distracting
as I cut all the budding flowers
from my lips before
they are able to bloom into-

Sleeping Arrangement

When I share a bed with two others
I always lay between
Because I dream so still and quiet-
my feet don’t kick or cause a scene.

It’s good to be in the center-
This arrangement isn’t new.
With he and she beside me,
I sleep warmly all night through.

Our bed wouldn’t suit just anyone,
We know this for a fact.
But I will say that it feels divine-
to have soft skin at my fore and aft!