Into the Wild Blue Yonder

I wound around One like ribbon
Fraying in the cold along the coast
I coasted on
from one state to another (later on).
the difference between sober and toasted?
“You don’t have to take what you’re given”
I said to the ocean.

“The Midwest suits you better”
I said into the mirror
after a stoic week on the beach
I was thinking clearer
The choice: a tee shirt or a sweater?
Or between extra calories and a gram?
(a mound of snow or a castle of sand).

Missing those golden animals,
I drove back to simple cats and retriever
Backtracking
Wasting gasoline, feeling wasted
“It’s just weather”
I said into the receiver.
The difference between here and there?
It’s just me.
"I'm Weathered, not broken."
I said to the ocean.

I'm a second in her memory

I've always been her favorite. I know because she's been telling me for as long as I can remember. She slouches in her wing chair. Alive, I think. Most times I can see her chest rising and falling slightly. Once I put my fingers by her nose to see if I felt the breath coming out. For one millionth of a second I wondered if she would be better off if I just pinched her nose for a few seconds. she wouldn't have to be so scared anymore. She could see her husband again. Most days I'm sure she thinks we're trying to steal from her. Her car, her imaginary house, her mutual funds. I don't think she remembers that she's rich anymore, actually. She knows that she has drawers of diamonds. She used to smuggle them to me in her napkin under the dinner table. She knows that when she wants to buy crystal covered rose petals and fiberoptic Christmas sleighs, she can. If she can calculate the right amount of cash, that is. I remember the last time I saw her try to use a credit card. It was three years ago. She took me out to one of her favorite restaurants- the type of place where you look like a mess if you're not in heels. She handed the waitress her credit card and told her to keep the change. When her card was returned with her slip, I saw her concentrating. She laughed and went to use the ladies' room. When I glanced at the slip, I saw that she had added the date to the total and signed her name on the tip line. I wanted to cry. On the ride home, I did. Last Tuesday she banged on my bedroom door. She screamed at me and asked me why I had stolen her car.I wanted to cry. Today, I did. I guided her to her chair and gave her a cookie. Pecan shortbread. It's always been her favorite.

I like shoes. I like you.

rest your arm on mine.
our colors mismatch in pieces
ink sleeves and goosebumps
you wear your heart there-
in pieces.
i wear my peace there-
in feathers.
cold and exposed are okay,
as long as your heart isn't in pieces.

tap your foot to mine
our shoes are mismatched soles
canvas and leather
you wear your toes
in holes there
i wear my heels
in hopes of heights
holes and heights are okay,
as long as your soul doesn't have holes.

rest your lips on mine.
our words match in meaning
laughing and singing
you wear your smile
everyday
i wear my smile
more often
buying me those amish shoes is okay,
as long as you remember i love you.

where is the fir tree?

on a faded page in his pastel clothes
that naughty rabbit ran home.
he dodged the farmer
he lost his tail
but he never turned around-
not until he reached that tree.
blackberries and beds and mother.

on a faded path in my pastel dreams
i'm searching for a home.
i was trapped by the gardener
i cut my off hair
and i always turn around-
i never reach that tree.
olives and sand and peter.

i will run until i find the fir tree.

snow rider

i ride the snow to the edge of the lake
the wind biting my cheeks, i grit my teeth
it's too old here
it's too cold here
i'm starting to fold here
along the edge of the ice
and i'm stuck in my car
and i've lost control of the wheel
and i've lost my ability to feel
i ride the chills until i shake

i was a blur, rushing with the white
in a dream i climbed out, once
snowbanked in my grandma's car
i had her diamonds there
i had my mittens there
i heard a thudding there
it was my savior up there
and i grabbed his hand and climbed
and the blizzard raged
and the highway lines were gone
i made my way into the night

i flew here from the north
to the bottom of this well
climbing up and digging out
it's the hope i have to ride

the weight of the world

i'm feeling tiny tonight.
an eyelash
a grain of sand
a seed
i'm feeling the miles tonight.
the distance wears
and grinds like salt
on snowy tires
and i'm worn away
and cold.
i'm feeling tired tonight.
a runner
a boxer
a blanket
i'm feeling that exhaustion tonight.
the promises fall
and droop
like eyelids
and i'm missing innocence
while i sleep.
i'm feeling irresponsible tonight.
a teenager
a train wreck
some graffiti
the mistakes splatter
and smear like blood
on the floor
and i'm sorry.
and i'm turning it off now.

baggage & boxes

i can't remember how i got here. do you know- were you with me? i must have unpacked those boxes because these are my candles and my nail polishes and my spoons. i must have had a husband because there is a mark around this finger that is less tan and i keep rubbing the smooth area with my thumb. was my wedding beautiful- were you there? i hope that i was beautiful and that i was thin. i must have had a baby once. there is picture of my fingers holding a first response that says that i did. where did she go? i hope that she had my nose and that she knows her way. did we cry? i can't remember. did i have ever have a garden? i hope that i grew peas and flowers and strawberries. i hope that the deer stole some before i shooed them away. did you ever meet my cat? there is a ball with a bell rolling inside my drawer and it must have been his. i hope that he slept on my feet at night and that he grew fat and old but that i never did. did you leave? i hope that i loved you. i must be alone.

what to do when he's been looking for you

you're leaning there against your car.
he pretends that he's not looking at you,
and you pretend that your leg's not shaking.
He's fifteen
and you're sixteen
and it's not your car, it's your mom's four-door
that you stole from the church parking lot.
you wish that your hair was longer
and that your teeth were whiter,
but all he wants to do is kiss you.

you're leaning against your doorway.
you pretend that you're not three shots
past being too drunk and too lonely.
you're married
and he's a nomad in the city
and it's not that you're depressed,
it's that you're tired and confused and drunk
and feeling fat and abandoned and broke.
so maybe you are depressed.
but all he wants is to find you again.

you're leaning against your shovel
in a town that's pretending that it's not still winter.
among people who think that you're insane.
you are insane,
and he's insane.
and it's not that they just think that you are
you are, but it's over and now you don't drink
but you hide and seek and cry
because he's been looking for you again
and all he wants is to be closer.

you're leaning away from his arm.
you pretend that you're just distracted
and he pretends that he doesn't know that
he's right there
and you're over here,
and it's like he knows that you're broken.
you are, and he can't fix it anyway
but he wants to, and so he touches your hand
and this time you let him
because that's what to do when he's been looking for you...

dear blame

you're the first one in line
being distributed and assigned
a lonely night, an empty glass
a broken window, a kiss in a flash
where are you now?

you're hanging on my rib cage
disjointed words on the page
a hollow pleasure to pass you
hidden next in the queue
what have you done now?

you're slurring with alcohol
dripping from tongues that call
calling for redemption
on the brink of condemnation
where has the judge put you now?

you'll never let us keep sleeping
never sleep until i'm weeping
when he's too tired to remember
when he's trying to love me forever
you've had your way-
will you leave us alone now?

i never wanted you here
i was shaking when i heard him calling
i felt sick when i saw you coming

married christmas

In the shadow of a rain cloud
Through the droplets on my window
I'm muted by your buttons
I'm muted by your sorrow
the phone has long ceased ringing
There's nothing else you can know

Through weeks of Christmas raining
The wreaths are caked with mud
Youre waiting for my ringing
And muted by the carol singing
The snow will miss this holiday
There's nothing else you can say

Next to Jesus in a manger
we could pray a little louder
muted by the choir tongues
hushed by a stranger in muted light
you were left on your own last year
There's nothing else you can fear

gin and tonic

when i'm running from you
it's today.
when it's our time
it's now.
you dressed me a gown
you landed in my town
you mended that dress
i reveled in my mess
that's yesterday.
a drink in the snow
a christmas no-show
it's possible.
when i'm missing you
it's today.
when it's past time
it's now.
i tipped your glass
you watched me pass
you drank it down
i started to drown
it's tomorrow.
i'll stop running
you'll stop sipping
if you'll be my chaser
if i can be your chaser

dearest vulpecula

you'll die alone in the sky
that flash of cunning in your eyes
won't save you from the night
though you'll gnash and gnaw and bite
your cage and the neck of the goose
you'll never be set loose
from those tragic, starry ties

i'll die alone in the trees
that flash that only god sees
in that prism of northern light
i can't be saved by my sight
though i search the dust for your tracks
your soft black toes padding back
to your den, again
to evade me despite my pleas

we'll die as sketches on the page
that flash of life that we waged
a blue eyed girl, a black eyed beast
alike in our wild mystery, at least
i ate the heart, you ate the goose
you chased your grave, i tied my noose
come,little fox, paws to hands to our grave

chasing Anser through the dark
you burn out like a spark
light years wisping through our fur
to your den, again
to my arms, again

outer space

i was a comet once- a burst of light
you watched my tail aglow in the sky
a lighthouse in your stormy night
all at once i faded
all at once you lost sight
alone again under and over the sky

i was a galaxy once- a cluster of stars
you caught the train to my center
into my churning version of mars
a trip into a blackhole
a lifetime in a second
humming again inside and outside time

i was aura borealis once- a wash of color
you painted me with fingers and brushes
a canvas for our crimson flushes
solar winds blew into quiet places
meteor showers washed our faces
tuesdays and sundays didn't mean a thing

i am a constellation- a body with no bones
you connect my shape tonight
invisible lines to my arms and face
a puzzle for your telescope
an answer to your horoscope
you're sitting alone on your porch
while i'm spinning in your outer space
(searching for your inner space)

don't you

don't you step away tonight
don't you step away the night
won't you sleep instead of dance?
i can see the night's significance
on your face while you're signing
"i love you" with your hands
i don't know how to dance.

don't you brush the hair from my face
don't you dust the shadow from my space
won't you tangle me up and leave a mess?
i can feel the insignificant combing of
your fingers as they make a home
in the paths along on my scalp
i don't know how to brush you.

don't you tell me that i should cry
don't you hold me while i try
won't you? all at once i'm everywhere
i'm a broken bone, a broken home
spin your dance, weave your comb
there's that swelling in your shins
the ache of cleaning with a mop of my hair

i feel the wait now
don't you?

lonely be

it's rather lonely being me
though i'm a little buzzing bee
humming from petal to leaf to tree
seeking out a sweeter honey

long ago i made a hive
a simple place to sleep and hide
with a little hole to peep outside
but the storms tore it open wide

i hummed along beside the lake
in the lupines my nest to make
but in a snowy blast and shake
my warmth was stolen by the flakes

to the hive of the queen mother
seeking the company of my brothers
i tried to land and work with others
but i could only hum and hover

perhaps i'll zip into the raging sea
forsaking flower, nectar and honey
maybe sweetness never will suit me
only to be buzzing and lonely be

you should go to church

a clink in the glass
with my icy fingers
she walks away
meditation on the floor
with my prayer hands
he flies to the wind
a bread without flour
for my ragged soul
she sets the table


a bullet to the face
with a cocked smile
alone with my teeth
a flake in the clouds
on salted highways
he shovels out
a page in the hymnal
turning ragged pages
she turns away


a tangle in my hair
with christmas strings
she trims the tree
reflection on the pew
with my prayer hands
we begin to pray
a basket of apples
for my fingers
we went away

cities fade like silver

i have crept away from the trees
swept away on a concrete breeze
to lands of lights and sounds
where sirens howl like hounds
bloody and shivering
i survive on a breath

i have ripped away my last pages
stripped away my clothes in cages
into mazes of sewers and homes
where screens rattle like bones
sweaty and hollow
i survive on bread

i have forgotten my mother
begotten under a dirty cover
into the black coal and steel
where gears grind and peel
dusty and coiled
i survive in a bowl

i have buried my tarnished things
married my paws to silver rings
into the smut and mounds of trash
where rags and babies thrash
filthy and damp
i survive below

i will flee the rapid bloody hounds
fleeting as jeweled sunset pounds
onto the tender forest floor
where my breath can swell and pour
fresh and clear and wide
i will survive

mouse

long ago i wrestled with my sleep,
he was a strong and restless giant.
when you rested deep into my tail,
i told a taller tale of starry eyed
creatures that frightened you.
stay with me.
i'll chase bluefish with my paws
you'll pause to sniff foreign airs
with me, your nest in my tail
we'll nestle down by the silo
in rustling wheats and downs.
stay with me.
our morning births golden hues
winking your blues into the sky
a breath through my teeth sighs
a dewy death for the drops
hush while my crimson cheek
hugs your grey feet, and sleep.
stay with me.

safe in the country

he sat at the end of the drive
2am gravel settling around his shoes
his 2am breath swelling with booze
he sat and waited for her to arrive

his calves hummed on his hog
hot in the sweaty summer air
his jacket made of calves and hair
the hog's thunder woke her dog

her eyes widened inside her head
2am sheets sticky with smoky fear
her 2am sweat swelled with her tears
she laid and waited in her panic bed

she slept to the left of an empty space
closer to the window sill
closer to her gun and will
trembling she crept along to the safe

only the dog was left by her side
since the farmer went away
since the boy did not to stay
since her silky, brown horses died

he left his ride and walked down the way
smiled and lit his cigarette
smiled when he saw her silhouette
the engine's roar slipped farther away

she closed her eyes and tried to dream
ignoring the sinking in her gut
ignoring the stinking, smoky butt
as wisps wafted through her farmhouse screen

she saw the lock's swinging chain
the dog was silent in regret
in the glow of an orange cigarette
in hum of the hog she never breathed again

our faults

in the wash of late summer
our mistakes, our eyes
our stars are bright tonight
underneath a slipping sky
it will all come out for us
in the wash

we stand upon a fault line
what was your fault?
what was mine?
the turning leaves deny us
the time to sort out
our dirty laundry

there's a crooked line
on the surface
of your mouth again
i call it a smile
you call it a fracture
you say it's my fault

it is. and i am slipping
looking up to heaven
wishing upon a star
that you would crack
a smile tonight
and let me in

you named me, like stars
bright and shining
i knelt beneath them tonight
a prayer for you to drift
towards the apostles
apart from all of our faults

i will camp here
your restless daughter
upon the footwall
until you return to me
to the cracks of '83
and embrace our fault lines