Tagged: the Monsters
After Choking You in My Sleep
the dead must be hungry
the way they present themselves
to me – half a hand out
hollow legs
shrinking then wrapping
the corners as if embarrassed
I would be too
all that work to be dead
and still begging
not that I’m any safer here
stairs are one of the most
haunted places on Earth. I
could be sitting in a portal, or in the body
of something larger
someone’s work or unrequited love
a prison, the defense
of a choke-point
whatever it is, I feel its interest
it shakes my insides as if
listening for seed
it lands on me when
I’m not careful
forms to vacancies like
an owl to the tree
like your voice to my ear
when I’m sure you’re lying
or is it, when I’m sure
I would have lied
is it me? I am poltergeist
through misplaced energy
dreams of fame turned
malevolent humility
inside lurks
the big black mass
of ever losing you, especially
to me
SWAT
woke up drenched again, not
dreams, not raining
who knows
there’s a resiny
imprint of me
on my mattress, laid over
countless others
like days
I go through what I ate & when
the withdrawal symptoms of
things like caffeine
pot, what I’m wearing
sleep positions, if
I jump in water before I sleep
maybe my mattress is a valley
my blankets roads
I overheat, sweat
become cold, pull them up
to wake unsure
where the water came from
if it’s water at all, or
just salt
if while sleeping, I’ve
been swimming, and
barely made it back to shore
How to Release Dead Animals
it is hot and windy. your face
is probably covered in hair
your body out
I am reminded of the animals
I’ve kept, some of which have
died in my care – snails
toads, spiders – clearly dead
(some had been melted
in tupperwares in which
I had also caught a star)
now back into the wild
unable to throw them away
unsure of their use now, as they
no longer moved in my room
unsure of where it was
I had found them
running away, around
this whole time, open
mouth against clear
sloped walls
even the rocks I’ve kept, like
tears hidden up my nose
or in my ears
I’ve wanted to keep forever
my ultimate stubbornness
to be an everything-sized cage
to be your whole world
suddenly my mouth is full
I set the dead on the knape
of the Earth, an armadillo
rooting its vast, known circle
flinching, closing
the dead to skitter off one day
the Earth to have rings
the dead to die again and
again, having lived
again I am unsure about
the size of the world
where the color goes
on captive animals
why they feel different
how they could have died
if I can love something
without having to have it
Orion
If you lay in snow
and I lay in snow
even with the same moon
as headboard, the electricity
wouldn’t travel, the water
too densely packed
I feel that way today
both in our underwear
separately
you walking from Planned Parenthood
to yoga, me having worn
the wrong clothes to work
now bathing in the spillway
we have no gas for water
we named a cat Fuel
each man presents
his best self, the
6-month awoken blood stem
you unlock something in me, he says
it was not there before
you make me want to be a better man
a star falls on the roof
by definition not that great
of a star, but close
men burn their tongues
try to recall
what they were doing before
just to have you say it
have you pull it out
the long steel draw
an approachable temperature
a star just being friendly
holding it
lighting their eyes
but stars are forever away
maybe they have died already
Harvey
the cab drivers
pull into gas stations, enticed
by the light of zeros
such brightness
meaning nothing, all out
I pick oil off the water
I pick oil
there is always some left
at the bottom, or
stripped up the sides
fucked and left stranded
like the coast
its lazy
endless versions
I’m trying, but each time
fucking is like flying – There is
more or you die
there is oil
it makes boats of birds
I flap
What could happen any minute
and the minutes lost
probably off somewhere
the drive up coast
its bolted down furniture
no walls
or else these paper thin ones
tonight I dreamt a jaguar
too hungry to hunt, was drowned
by the heron
lifted away
eaten someplace quiet
on the rocks
down the hallway
until the heron was stretched full
of hair and bone
holding its gut
sloshed to sleep by the moon
her great blue stomach
the sea
After Seeing My Ex // on Tinder
swiping left in child’s pose
as if i didn’t do it
as if to say
no, let me help you
a phone covered in milk
i jumped in a new life
and forgot it
i couldn’t find happiness
when it was in my hand
i couldn’t leave the house
//
i think of you alone there
with my choices
repeating themselves
like children
white cells
the haunt of bodies
moving you from room
to room, where once
we passed through
inside each other
walked through hallways
of pictures of organs
murmurs following
us with eyes, and we felt
alive, if for a moment
before
the moment
had always been there
Meds
i am asked to pass candles over a fence to a party
i light them first, which I guess makes the whole thing harder
looking back it seems strange
each candle seems desperate, a plea to other nights
the flame a small bird struggling with huge weight
overstimulant with nice things
buried in woman’s hair, the air all at once
i know they are small, my hands
but small things eat things
they consume slugs as dolphins
people who understand, might understand
i see the world in the eyes of everyone else
or do i just see it that way
is near death a symptom, or the start of a remedy
should I stop now, or just go with it?
Rule 34
how much
of the internet
have I’ve seen?
how many thoughts
& friends now side
with my ex?
how many places
will I bed, like
a predator?
we are affiliated, &
would not be
elsewhere, we say
we repeat ourselves, tracked
by those who remind us what
a person is mainly
the few lines
we know
spaced out
repair based on items
cried most often
a little spine, a little
eaten by wolves, not
simply followed, the bones
made powder by morning
hounds asking, even
when satisfied
what else is there?
What if Bugs Bunny Were Bugs Instead of a Bunny
I think of replacing myself
with bugs
fumbling over themselves
heaving
grabbing skin, grain
absorbed
or otherwise freed
like other, smaller
bugs. you would like it if
I had been
now that I am
but I wasn’t
a spider hurls its heart
into its legs
blood hits the wall
and goes up it
like a roach. there is no
naturally occurring
instance of me
in the leaf litter
in the rot
I descend carrots
I say what is up. I
tape your heart
Flat Earth
I remember in church
a woman was having trouble
praying to God
sexually abused
by her father and now her husband
she couldn’t take another man
Make God a woman, the pastor
told her. Granted, this
was a Methodist church
Mom liked it for the choir
Dad always felt
he could ignore what he didn’t like
the matter of interpretation
heavy. some things did happen. we
did slay our memories
we did find a dead spot
in the woods
i knew of it
in the way one knows our planet
through pictures
through the elements of trust
wind, fire, through blood
like a meteor disintegrated
how can I ever
get far enough away
to see
what is really the world
to see it touched
by the hands
we are told mean time
and know the forest
for the stars
how on Earth
will I recognize
my mother, her face
like there had been people
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