berry blisters and chocolate Sunday’s melt like ice mirrors in potholes and pocks. grace writes my name in opaque fluff through periwinkle lace, calls to me in the musty mold of depression and vomit. a circle of unicyclists, people trying to pass through mountains with hand drills, and I’m there, too. my heart’s in my hand, shiny pointy glass shattered in six billion two shards reflecting my somber mask, droplets pool on the pieces stillborn like an ancient swamp, preserved and stuck, stoic and sad. I smell the smell for the first time I’ve breathed. No, that’s a lie. I smell it again, again. Maybe yet to come more. The smell of hospital wafts like chemicated medicated chalk rubber gloves, slick and concealing skin, hiding what lies below every throb. discreet. (or so they think). no hospital gown—that other lie of a dress, like undressed mess bare and raw before the front of accreditation. the back ties barely glued conceal nothing as I sit square and cold like people do in waiting rooms, rocking themselves like mothers and moving sloths, remember. Just let it go, the fussy, hungry woman before me dictated. inject this in the spiral notebook spine holding you up some days: go to bed and rest, let go and dissect yourself until you come to the beginning of the circle.
smooth, green bench frozen in cement rectangle,
like memories that scare, scream for attention,
lodged in crevices of file cabinets on lobes,
creeping forward to say hello.
tin trash bin containing yesterday’s debris,
today’s discontent, stationed at curb,
ready to descend.
seagull licks ice cream puddle underneath pay phone.
man in purple tie clips by.
a cloud observes, cries, floats forward.
at least gravity isn’t backwards.
smell of cat urine
white pills, pink pills
orange cylinder capped white
rain, inside me.
baby crocodile spit up
eleven hundred moons
hopscotch sidewalk chalk
mountain’s taste buds
twig waltzing with wind
coral’s Saturday afternoon
wrens frolic with feathered wings in freckled fields
as gold papery leaves, cut and curled, reach
as wooden hands stretch
toward far, floating cotton
tectonic threads woven in earthen
shifting, shaping, becoming.
baby star blossoms,
chick tinkers with her wings,
light breaks night, shatters dark, develops
one click and stark, charred film
one tock tick and yesterday
to new volume.
kaleidoscope wonder world.
She hushed stars to sleep,
tucked Moon under covers,
folded fleece dew,
and pruned black hole residue.
Fiona, the hare-maid: hopped ocean for sky, shined Sun’s glare and polished cloud reflection. a mystery and a whim, she lived in watery wordless still small of day.
I love you times smiles, germs, and cents. I love you times miles, moons, and dents. times ages, awnings, and atoms. plus every booger and star ever formed, and each laughter note. plus yawns, pebbles, and fur. times each thread, molecule, and memory–I love you!
fire bulb bursts,
blossoming in the east
like frost-licked crocuses
majenta, violet, floral
dripping and dreaming
crisp, pure tweets pierce solitude,
calling dusty sleepers:
enthralled with her beauty
with His bride.
and the king will desire your beauty.
laughter sings dormant
under silent sorrow skin
listen, love, look up