Friday, March 29, 2013

Puppy Love

Two men now
have called me a puppy
which sounds 
about right.
Did you know
I hurt people
when I hug them?
Jumping up
limbs flailing
an elbow
to the forehead
I don't realize
how sharp
my teeth are.
How much is it
that I'm young
and wet
and needing shelter,
and how much is it
that I'm nice to pet,
and how much is it
that you know
there's a 
good, old dog
in there?
Take the bones 
and let's see
what this is
all about.

Friday, February 1, 2013

Mother Stacey

I said fuck in front of Mother Stacey this weekend and she didn't even blink. When she got really pissed was when I said maybe God was punishing me.

"That's NOT true."

All bad ass hard ass nun like in Sound of Music.

"What could this beautiful young woman possibly be so troubled by?"

I just want to cross my legs.

Wednesday, November 28, 2012

Remember This

The radiator clicks on
And I ask about the weekend.
you say, 
We are sticking to the point.
Can you let go for today?
On the train
no, I couldn’t.

Images of mountains 
The way the 
sun spread 
across those 
tall trees.
Why not 
let go
like that?

You tell me 
I will remember this.
Like a shitty tuna sandwich.
How are you to know 
what a good one tastes like 
unless you’ve had it
wrapped in cellophane 
at the airport
for $3.95?

I stand 
at the window
My reflection 
stands back,
a ghost.
As I plie
to the back 
of Brooklyn
You say,
We will remember this.

I think of Venice
Hot, yellow sun.
A boat.
A piece of rope
winding around 
a cleat.
And I know you’re right.

Tuesday, November 13, 2012


I first think about smashing something. I want to put my fist through a bigass piece of glass. Watch the whole thing shatter, like a spider web. Like a symphony. 
“Do you have good veins?” the nurse asked today. I am so much more than a long arm with a good vein. I am a fist. Two long legs with boots that click and go THWACK when I kick. I am strong and hard. Tall. When art students paint my portrait, I look mad. One woman painted me all distorted. 
“The hard thing about painting pretty girls,” the teacher said, “is you make one mistake, and they look like monsters.” 
I have learned how to sit in a subway car, tightly packed next to two strangers, our arms touching, and weep without them noticing. Fold your arms. Don’t let the sound come out. 
What made me cry most? One thought, again and again.
I want my mommy. I want my mommy. I want my mommy.

Tuesday, October 30, 2012

We Must Be Crazy

When he was angry
he'd throw his arm back
like a softball pitch
and wind-through-POW
hit his hand
fist against hand
again. again. until we stopped him.

That's what I'd like now
to take a wall out
or a window
throw my fist into something solid
until it shatters.

Is this what it means to be an artist?
We must be crazy
no diagnosis necessary.
What if
he didn't talk
because he knew
we wouldn't listen?

Monday, October 22, 2012

the interior walls of houses

The day that the wall punching happened, you got out of bed and stood,
looking eye level, 
at the softly collapsed piece of plaster. 
A perfect circle. 
You sighed, 
and without looking at me, 
walked to the bathroom to shower. 

Saturday, September 29, 2012


Before the proverbial apple, Adam and Eve had no understanding of death. I imagine them naked in the garden, biting the fruit. Knowledge comes like a wave. Oh shit. Death? What is death! They shout.
           I have taken bites. 
           Have digested knowledge. 
           I am in over my head. 
           Love? What is love!