A modern break-up
Is a terrible thing
I blame technology
For making it easy
To avoid my face
And ghost away
For the spam emails
That alert me to discount flights to Yerevan
Because maybe one day I did a Google search
Because he was going there
And the internet doesn't forget
And Groupon doesn't forget
And the Cloud doesn't forget
And auto-correct doesn't forget
Though maybe my friends will forget
Because they've all had a thousand matches since then
But WhatsApp tells me when he was last online
The seconds beating like
Electronic heartbeats
So for me
He will always be
Alive
Unless I unsubsrcibe
To every part of him
And start
Again
Tuesday, July 4, 2017
Wednesday, April 12, 2017
blue dog
The day you died
Blue Dog fell
I don't know how
A favorite painting knows
When its admirer has departed
But I swear
He knew
When I saw the loosened nail
And his portrait
Face down
In reverence
Across your chair
super bloom (for californian lovers)
You're not crazy
He cared about you
He just
Didn't
Care
Enough
He gave you sun
Without rain
So you think you are a desert
But
What you don't know
Is that tomorrow the torrent will cleanse you
And under your skin
Your thirsty seed
Will rise
A Super Bloom
Saturday, April 8, 2017
once i reached for the stars
No
Actually
Yes
You confessed
When I asked about tattoos
You pointed to three dots
Pinpricks
A quiet trinity around your head
A constellation across the map of your skin
I touched one black star
A reminder that once
Your body waged war inside of you
Once
You were marked on the operating table
Once
You suffered
And survived
I thought they were the loveliest tattoos
I'd ever seen
And now
When I lay my head upon its only pillow
And gaze longingly at evening's stars
They all seem too bright
They all seem too far
Like you
What I would give
To kiss your dark stars
Goodnight
Saturday, April 1, 2017
my broken heart is still your home
So
It's just you and I
Again
I said
To God
When the other gentleman
Walked out of my heart
And left us with enough space
To do cartwheels
And repaint the walls
And see each other from every crack
Of rainbow light
Seeping through its still pulsing skin
A promise
After the flood
Where the new landscape seems
Quiet
And strange
And my patience is tried
By its slow fertility
So
Here we are
Again
Saturday, March 11, 2017
no beggar
I feel our bond is breaking
Like a trampled flower
Before it even blooms
The truth is
We were a bastard seed
The truth is
You were born to poverty
Twice over
And I
I know the wealth I hold
Under these pauper's clothes
I thought I would gently undress
Lest my riches blind you
Lest you feel unworthy
Because no one is worthy
But you are a strange sort of thief
Who would not steal my heart
Not when I gave it to you on a silver platter
Not when I wrapped it in gold
I suppose I'm to blame
For wearing a disguise
But alas
I am no beggar
therapy
If these tears could speak
What would they say
He asked
Before the torrent
Continued
To rage
Before he uttered
I give up
Before I realized
My tears never spoke to me
And I felt my own
Betrayal
Monday, March 6, 2017
to the italian coffee vendors on the birth of their son
Today at the farmer's market
Rolled-out-of-bed as I was
Sunglass-clad despite the grey mist
I witnessed a sight better than church
Or more like it
The Greek man who sold cheese
Came to hug you
Like a brother's was his embrace
The lesbian mothers
Offered you their son's outgrown clothes
Exchanging motherly glows
My aunt brought heart-shaped cookies for the girls
Who huddled under the booth
Their makeshift cave
Passing Italian whispers between nibbles
Everyone missed you last week
And everyone knew why you were gone
I wish I could capture their joy in a bottle
And drink it on the day my soul runs dry
Rolled-out-of-bed as I was
Sunglass-clad despite the grey mist
I witnessed a sight better than church
Or more like it
The Greek man who sold cheese
Came to hug you
Like a brother's was his embrace
The lesbian mothers
Offered you their son's outgrown clothes
Exchanging motherly glows
My aunt brought heart-shaped cookies for the girls
Who huddled under the booth
Their makeshift cave
Passing Italian whispers between nibbles
Everyone missed you last week
And everyone knew why you were gone
I wish I could capture their joy in a bottle
And drink it on the day my soul runs dry
scratch
The skin on my face is burning
Like small red fires
Encamped in pleasant places
My lips
Still stinging
From your beard-pressed kisses
Some kind of lovely pain
You scratch into my being
Like small red fires
Encamped in pleasant places
My lips
Still stinging
From your beard-pressed kisses
Some kind of lovely pain
You scratch into my being
Sunday, March 5, 2017
prayer of disorientation
I've been bruised in Your holy places
Been wandering in Egypt
That desert
Where my prayers never return from captivity
Or am I so blind, deaf and lame
That I cannot hear Your
Still
Small
Voice
So come to me in the burning bush
Been wandering in Egypt
That desert
Where my prayers never return from captivity
Or am I so blind, deaf and lame
That I cannot hear Your
Still
Small
Voice
So come to me in the burning bush
legacy
I come from a line of dead women
Who did not reproduce
Except in name
And my lot
Will be the same
Who did not reproduce
Except in name
And my lot
Will be the same
migration
Last week I swallowed a flock of butterflies
And at the sound of your voice
They shift and turn around in my body
North
And south
They fly
Drinking all the air in my lungs
They won't grow tired
Until they have left me breathless
And at the sound of your voice
They shift and turn around in my body
North
And south
They fly
Drinking all the air in my lungs
They won't grow tired
Until they have left me breathless
my world will not revolve around you
That will be the way our friendship goes
When you shift the cosmos
All of those perfectly ordered stars
Each moon in mirrored brilliance
To orbit
All
Around
You
When you shift the cosmos
All of those perfectly ordered stars
Each moon in mirrored brilliance
To orbit
All
Around
You
train station revelations
Then one day
Finding myself beside a row of empty chairs
In a nearly empty station
I thought
There is a worse thing
Than being alone and feeling alone
I was thinking
Of feeling alone but being with you
Finding myself beside a row of empty chairs
In a nearly empty station
I thought
There is a worse thing
Than being alone and feeling alone
I was thinking
Of feeling alone but being with you
free advice
Not everything that is free
Is worth the price
Your opinions
Fly at my heart
Like daggers in the dark
And leave me fragmented
Like a run-on sentence
Like a question
I never formed
Never asked
Is worth the price
Your opinions
Fly at my heart
Like daggers in the dark
And leave me fragmented
Like a run-on sentence
Like a question
I never formed
Never asked
la fiamma
You kissed my hand
Like some outlandish lord
And spoke my name
Like a favorite song
My cheeks were aflame
Endearing
I know
But no water
Would put the fire out
Like some outlandish lord
And spoke my name
Like a favorite song
My cheeks were aflame
Endearing
I know
But no water
Would put the fire out
a good problem
You are the reason
I cannot write a happy poem
All those words
Too small
Too lifeless
To contain the magnitude
Of my delight
I cannot write a happy poem
All those words
Too small
Too lifeless
To contain the magnitude
Of my delight
welcome
Our world is a womb
If only we saw death
Like we see birth
The pain of the dark channel
Swallowed up
By the vast expansion
Of life
Welcome
If only we saw death
Like we see birth
The pain of the dark channel
Swallowed up
By the vast expansion
Of life
Welcome
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