the memory of our voices is inside it.

Never cared much for travel, 

maybe it’s something about flying over oceans without having wings/

maybe it’s the mimicry

maybe it’s because that’s how I came here 

and now that I’m here, all I can think of is how

I haven’t acquired a degree 

only a tomb/

maybe it’s that my father will be 84 in 5 days and

in less than 24 hours he will be injected with what I call a serum

that will kill the cancerous DNA living in his bones/

what are bodies, and what are planes and what is gravity and what are all of the dead bodies buried, rotting underground?

death puts you in debt/

death puts you to bed/

small bones

you wake up attached,

to a mother, not THEE mother— 

but YOUR mother—a mother;

a fleshy cord cut, and now you’re free—your mind is yours, your body rented, temporary—

you suck nutrition from breasts and bottles—eventually, a cock, a beer—a kiss 

—on certain nights—your birthday usually, you can feel the rip, you can hear the rip, a swingset between her legs—a constant reminder of the pain you caused just by being born—

as if you would’ve chosen this//as if you would’ve agreed to this//happenstance—coincidence—whatever you call it, —

I’m here, and my body is weak from all you’ve denied it—but I feed it milks squeezed from almonds and oats—vegetables from a friend’s garden—protein from animals killed kindly—and on the days I eat wild meat, I am reminded of the feral way in which you birthed me—the taste of primitive red meat—some poor animal who didn’t have a choice but to be born—just like me—

not talking, as a condition— (a dedication…)

sensual glutton, where is your devil?

stuck between the ridges of your palm and eyes?

gnarled between your teeth?

remember you are the sprig and the fountain,

 you relax in the color of your own mathematics,

you pain out your happy because healing is not what you do/

you exaggerate numbers only to divide your legs into an obtuse/

aren’t you (a)cute, 

all 90 degrees of, 

it wasn’t me, it was my upbringing!”

stay safe with a switchblade between your knuckles, 

pierce the tongues of those that speak too close and too wild/

hooligans have no place inside you, 

but there they are again,—

dripping down your thigh/

Heaven and the mundane

the earth keeps butterflies disquiet in its crux/

an escape of agony/iced/cold, it is haggard/

a mathematician in disguise, hard-wired interaction/

no one on Earth has a spotless record, not even the Earth/

hankering to shake you from your sleep/she jumps,

from Indonesia, Alaska, California, Puerto Rico, Idaho, Hawaii, Japan, Nevada, Oklahoma, Greece/

It’s alphabetical, in its own way/

It is 9 thousand miles away/

It is 140 miles away/

It is here, below my feet/

break yourself to open

return, to the crime scene—

the clarity is muddled 

it sacrifices itself in the palms of my eyes,

with sugar and bitters and sustained retrieval

I am left out in the universe

to endure and imbibe from the wounds

that seep simultaneously

with excuses




I am a lamb/






Now what?

How do I move in silence when I’ve kept quiet for so long?

How do I scream without sending waves?

There is a roar underneath the core of us/

a contemplation of sex and stars/

a strut 

a snake

a glance

an embrace

I am all angel and villain 

black feathered hair/sharp mouth

illusion of something small—gigantic at 5 foot 2 

corners hide the sly, the slick, the tick, the lie 

of giving more than you have

of reaching for my sky, of making it rain

new fresh limbs rise from my eyes

new found lips purse and plume with promise

I see you

…please continue