Tag Archives: memory

Round house

I used to love
to kick things
as hard as I could
like people
on the side of their heads
if they didn’t move
I remember the feelings
of taking a foot to the face
the pain shock & humility
the deafening pressure—the ringing
to destroy between a helmet and a chest piece
the barriers between us—the rules governing
our moves but not our emotions—
I’m reminded of this at the hip
with every step I take
toward my grave


Brittany

You were the tallest girl I ever fucked—
that alone stands out to me thinking back
among the sea of deviance like a peak in the waves

You must have been my height
or just slightly shorter—I think we even
did a side by side just to see back to back

I remember those legs
but I can’t remember your face now
other than the way I would catch you staring at me from across the room

There at someones party with your semidwarfed boyfriend
in Sarasota from outta town—Tallahassee maybe,
you guys seemed so close

I don’t know why then our hands found
their way into each others
while he was supposedly passed out right beside us—

There was no stopping it at that point—
we were too young or something—too magnetic—
nothing else in the world had any meaning left—

We had been born to find each other
sought out of height—out of hair—
out of the ringing in our hands down into your soaked booty
shorts

I had to taste it—
and soon my cock growing into belonging down in your throat
was no longer enough—

To fuck wildly trying to be quiet
he didnt even move
or make a sound pulling your black wavy hair back
my hand over your mouth in the dark smell of unpeeling
—I remember
loving distinctly how much of you there was—
the same reason we’ll probably be gone
from this world before everyone else—

You told me you’d let me do anything to you
and of course that was a total lie
but it sounded good outside at 4am on the grass beneath the willow—

How were we supposed to know
Rachel’s nana made her the blanket
we desecrated into the dirt with our mad hazy starlit ritual

You told me you loved him but that you needed me—when I came inside you pulled me in as tight as you could—I slept on my own on the couch & saw your myspace three months later still together



Borderlands

It’s the first time
you realize
you’ve been born—
you were becoming—now
you’re being—

It’s the crossfade
of your memory—that one
time—you can’t discern
now—was it just
your imagination—

It’s the one dream
where it’s made to be seen
so clearly—
like an epiphany—
or an emotion—

It’s the fever
that comes over you—seeks
to mend you—takes you
somewhere else—
does it boil—
or does it burn—

You slide down
the neck—you feel for
where the waves start
wobbling—you put your
palms up—index to
the thumb—

It’s the medicine—
do you remember
your initiation—
did you take it
into your hands—what does
healing—mean
to you—

It’s the practice—
the moments of mastery
that reflect the mystery
infinitely—

Does it pluck at you
like a string—does it
drone—does it chime
like a bell—does it echo 
when I do this—

It’s the death—
like falling—
or the death
like flying—

It’s tomorrow
where intention
calluses—it shines in wait—
tomorrow—you will
surrender—



Angel II

Those full moon nights
rising behind the hills
we’d hike up to Pogonip
just to see it
the whole meadow
to ourselves
and visible

in the moonlight
we’d accelerate
with micrograms
and a glass pipe
dedicated to
just this one thing
your pregnant wife said
she felt like
she was in an egg
after melting it down
into alien candy
vapor

It was as if
nothing could touch us
we must have been glowing
hysterical
they called this place
Heroin Hill
we navigated the tracks
by phosphene
past the headlamp bicycle ghoul
to the garden of eden

We passed right through
someones camp
a shadow
stomping a big staff
or his boots
on the earth
to warn us

Perhaps it was our
maniacal apologies
our incessent laughter
in the redwoods
that assured the man
we were just passing through

Like the river
passing through the place
in the forest
we called our home


Angel

I know, we
had work
the next morning,
but something
made us walk
to the beach
that night

A few miles north
up highway one
by the cave

You always pronounced
your Z’s
with a Puerto Rican S

You were always
Re a lie sing

How many little
cubensis we placed
into our hands
our mouths
how much
brown resin
from the trichocereus
we harvested
that would grow again
six where there
was once one

I remember when
you disappeared—
hide the mescaline
in the sand

Was it you
or the fire whispering
sentient knots—
an audible curse
to crack open the clouds

A line drawn
out of sky
staight through
the mist
above us
wildeyed
mesmerized

I was surprised
by how much
you had changed—
you thought you were
my savior!
I should have known

[No more words in this cocoon]

I was surprised
when we showed up
on time for work
the next day


35 ppm

Found a nail
                 to hang it from

I sent the water
                back from where it came

It was circulating
                    pushing in the oxygen

Flashback to when we used
                                     to spraypaint poetry

The roads that went to nowhere
                                         they ran out of money

Pouring rain and lightning
                              the smell of pussy and the shins

Acacia sap they sent back
                           in candles she said

Mountain dew and indole
                                   tiny flowers in Big Sur

They started kissing first
                      it was only natural

Blue bioluminescence in the waves
                   of the ocean in the middle of the night

There’s a light on
               out there on the boat

There’s a light on
                        in here because of me

The sparks of the tow truck
                                  Toyota camry in the air

Floor it in reverse
                    spin around in the field

You could walk under powerlines
                           forever but you shouldn’t

We loved highway 9
                       like it was our beloved

We were only tourists
                                     just like everybody else

We’d wind up in the middle of
              nowhere goin’ how we ever gonna get back


What’s the difference between a poet and a terrorist

Sir, you’re going to have to come with us

look up down the aisle
    headphones off
notebook closed
    thick men in outfits
with intent faces
    all eyes on me

the poems

I scoot past
    The Bitch
and realize
    I’m being removed
from the plane

you shouldn’t say it
    you should just stop
go to sleep
    forget it ever happened

in the weirdshaped chair
    eating a fuji apple
should we let him do that
    why did you leave this behind
every agency in the proximity
    swarmed like vultures
with ear pieces
    making everyone wait
while they searched
    and found nothing

I was flying to New York
    it was after, you know,
you remember, don’t you

We just need to make sure
    this plane makes it safe

I just wish
    they read
the one
    I threw away