my body is a container memories and thoughts more than architecture I wear the cake I ate with pride I wear the hurts I ached right there...

I’ve seen God in a ripped sky bleeding over a volcano’s crown I’ve seen God in your hands I’ve seen God in your mouth in cool water that...

perfectionism is a drug free and lethal spiny thorns that press to a fixed place cracks give me peace it wasn’t always the case I want to...

there’s kombucha in my fridge and crystals in my pockets totems they make me feel good i curse like a sailor i like sailors my dad was...

I used to shame myself for procrastinating before sitting down to write on days I have set aside for working. I would putter and clean...

Listen on Soundcloud Curls I cut from my brother’s baby head when I am five and jealous. The light that hits a river bank in Yosemite...

my phantom limb has a mouth where the knee bends teeth like razors that bite in night when the earth falls still. sugar in the grill that...

A hundred years or less to run the wheels off this flesh suit. Wear it down to where there is nothing left. A hundred years of filling...

thirsty. girl. drink drink from the well I’m keeping stocked be the pan that holds the egg plop and sizzle in my grip grief is the clean...

tip the glass and watch it spill fill the cracks with wet put pen to where the paper is grateful for a hand to hold you pen you’ve never...

inky eye in that expanse of sky i saw you looking as we danced I liked it blue blue dream in the hem of my coat grateful for a friend a...

Somehow Somehow I take in air unseeable something filling insides breath. why do we need you. what do the plants need? Something i forgot...

i touched moon a dense room on the inside of sky white light an afterlife ribs shook with all it took to say words so soft in my cheek...

she’s looking at me and I’m looking at a wormhole my eyes in her head flap-jawed a mouth a mind a runaway train i am the blood that made...

no thing could ever obliterate the house you built in me.

find me in the high Sierra way up in the icy air i’ll be the cowboy dirt in my scalp this dogged ride saddle thumping between my thighs...

tedious and brief says the sundial and i find myself watching shadows differently these days the way they slip tech tonic plates shifting...

her beard is greying this dog one day she will no longer kick me in my sleep. so I take her out tinsel in the bushes mirrors winking in...

we ring and run plastic bags sagging on the steps a dung heap of lost sleep a ditched pile of not regret we fold fire and wedge it in...

FOR THE LONELY (Double Bass, Mid 18th century, Anonymous-Academia Museum, Musical Instrument Museum) she has outlived her maker. more...