wild mustang country

1. your voice
a gravel road
leading me east
to wild mustang country

2. 8 hours in the kitchen at work
follwed by 2 hours
in the kitchen at home
nothing worth mentioning
except the two hours at home
heals
the damage
of 8 hours at work

3. joolay’s emo mix
on constant rotation
singing along while
chopping
sauteing
washing
is necessary

4. fennel
sliced thin, olive oiled
and tossed into toaster oven

5. the most gorgeous red butterhead lettuce
afloat
in kitchen sink

6. judith’s thank-you-for-letting-me-stay-here red wine
and four glasses
arranged on backporch table

7. purple grape spill
across tablecloth
something
to remember
this moment
by

8. the birth of a dominatrix: miss payne
who sometimes
goes to restaurants

9. soundtrack
for the all-day-in-the-kitchen ache
in my legs
(last weekend
someone mentioned that
growing pains
are a sign of
juvenile arthritis)

10. mouth to ear
teeth to neck
i tell you
about summer
in minneapolis

11. workin on our night moves
under orange streetlight filtered |
through windshield glass

the best way to manipulate time

1. 5something a.m.
voicemail
some part of me
is taking in
an uncapturable sunrise
plus bright white moon

2. dreams:
rolan, ami and i
visit
a farm
someone limps up the steps
while someone goes for a walk in the back field
and enters a conversation
with the neighbor

i ask you to come over
then send you home
this is our first argument

dressing/preparing
for the first day of school
i choose
the bluebrown boots

3. random array
of goods
stashed like gold
in work freezer:
two packages of (what would you do for a) klondike bars
and a box of hebrew national brand beef franks in a blanket

4. krissy
bringer of healing leaves
arrives
during the changing
of the guard

5. it is not dinner
but banana bread
goes well
with cough away tea

6. maroon blur
and that voice
yelling out a window
headed east
while i
pedal
furiously
west

7. four glass cups
filled with heat
pressed
to skin
along shoulder blades
while i lay
face down
each deep breath
moving the glasses towards each other
clinking
slightly

8. discovering
the difference
between
september 2nd
and september 23rd
(the best way
to manipulate time
is to lie to yourself
about due dates
and deadlines)

9. for dinner
xavier cooks
polenta
black beans
lacinato kale with mushrooms
garnished with lime
cilantro
and avocado

10. the kind of sky
that breaks your heart
all day
from sunrise
to dusk

11. the living room
a sea of prints
frames
x-acto knives
and mat board
corinne
swimming
in the middle

six studies of landscape and history in the key of wingman

1. poppy red morning
glowing through pulled-shut curtains

2. open sky
deep blue above me
in stillness
there is the force
of 8million fists

3. pink grapfruit
from hands to mouth
while swaying
in yellow hammock
it is no longer citrus season

4. ‘bear rug
draped over front yard chair

5. barefoot and sweeping
barefoot and mopping
work
is the rhythm

6. a stomach
unlocked
of grief

7. the loss
of never entering
your calmquiet
again
my art
going hungry
in your art’s
absence
(i don’t know
how to do san diego
without you)

8. setting a new
neti pot record
to four times in one day

9. riding west on dekum
through the wind and gray
of a storm
that never arrives

10. corinne coming home to me
at shannon’s house
(the hilarity
of the out-of-contextness
and familiarity
smashing up
against each other)

11. hot rose tea
at the dining room table
shiz and i study

12. in case you didn’t like
wingman series

or
six studies of landscape and history
in the key of wingman

i’ve got another suggestion
for your print series title:
a pound of olives
or a tub of anchovies


the first strawberry/two griefstories

1. water
dribbling down chin
onto chest
tribute
to summer heat

2. sun soaked garden tour
garlic scapes
leaving marks
on biceps

3. the first strawberry
and a sampling
of snap peas
chewing through
tough
green
skin

4. orange wedges
in bowl
on hands
in mouth
dripping
under sun

5. in this song
you
bring out the words
i’ve never heard before

4. get yer boots
out of the closet, boy
put em on
and shine em in my sheets

5. a ghosttrip
to mt. mitchell
with unnamed roads
and unmarked turns

6. two griefstories
told
atop a beetquilt
one involving
the heartbreak
of family and distance
and one involving
the heartbreak
of a young death
of something so right

7. endeared
by the feyest waitor
at chabba thai
while the sun sinks
in the west

8. front seat
and delirious
i hold
four
in my hands
and get to take one
home
with me

9. i didn’t mean
to look
this nice

says black sweater
to red tshirt #31
under
a backporch
umbrella

10. four chapters
aloud
relief comes
when geryon
and his mom
laugh
about the empty fruitbowl

11. constellations of word stars
shining in paragraphs
lead me to the window
in search of
gold moon rising


you are a luminous flipbook underneath the loincloth moon

1. kitchen counter
lined
with excess condiments
mustard
barbeque sauce
sweet and sour light orange sugar syrup

2. ryder
frying turkey bacon
stirring grits
and aiming
for over-easy eggs

3. backporch breakfast
secret garden style
followed by
a banana hammock-hanging dessert

4. corinne
bare-shouldered
leaning into porch posts
while the drill
whines into wood

5. afloat
in a banana peel
over a sea of fresh mint
with a side of blooming lilies
a moment of summer lounge softness
corinne and i
quietvoiced
and breathing

6. holding middle fingers overhead
in a double fuck-you
to the military jets
splitting sky
at such decibals
all conversation
is rendered
inaudible

7. my room
a bermuda triangle
of to-do lists
and intentions

8. a strip of post-sunset gold
rising up
behind the edge of
forest park
(what was once known
as the tualatin mountains)

9. trickster time
starring in the great battle
of expandcollapse
when what feels like 11:30 pm
is really 2 am

10. the introduction
of an already existing
drag persona:
perry homo
and the birth
of a new one:
evan essence

11. you
are a luminous flipbook
underneath
a loincloth moon

12. a tiny taste
of steel diamond plate
underneath
my knees

13. the cacophony
of two sets of rattling lungs
coughing
into
morning-colored light



we’re getting closer to death. together.

1. dream:
you appear
on the front porch
in your baseball cap
with a two-page note
in your hand

2. between the line
and the dishpit
paul and i
discuss
memoirs
science fiction
and old casio keyboards
he tells me
my voice
is smokin

3. marea
sends a photo
of a memorial brick
with the name sunshine crusher
etched into it

4. paloma’s dolphin noises
heard
across a room
filled
with people

5. behind a semi-circle of lit candles
a guitar
a cello
a violin
a harp

sometimes serenading
sometimes lullabying
sometimes shredding hard

6. sophisticated backyard dining
involving salad with horseradish
and sheep feta
sprinkled
on top

7. the joke
for the eve
begins with
passing infectious diseases
back and forth
and ends with
we’re getting closer to death. together.

8. while washing dishes
we discuss
the scrabble movie
the spelling bee movie
the crossword puzzle movie

9. i brush black and gold eyeshadow
across shannon’s eyelids
but make her
draw on her own eyeliner

10. moon
one night shy of full
so bright
its glare alone
could slice me
clean open

fever

temperatures
air: 70 f
body: 99.8-100.0 f

corinne brings me sleepy tea
corinne makes me salad
corinne sets out to sail on the seas of sleep
in the dusk
of moonrise

tonight
a freighter that never ends
a hummingbird carrying heartmagic
an oil lamp burns out

yoga
twice daily
flushing ache
from joints

why eat food
when i can just feed
on tinctures

the elf queen held me captive

1. marea
runs food
while also
running a fever
self-care
does not exist
here

2. corinne
tells me
about an encounter
with the smallest boa constricter
while my lungs
shake out
the largest rattlesnake sound

3. wild cherry bark syrup
one tablespoon at a time
soothing and burning
as it goes down

4. saltwater eyes
when i talk about
the gutting
of wanting
to leave you things
like flowers
like loomings
like my handwriting
at your doorstep
and knowing
i am
not
allowed

5. summer sweat
gathering
at the backs
of my knees

6. the danger
of eating a cherry
like a miniature plum
and reserving its juice
for lipstick

7. the suprising
trajectory
of a cherry pit
spit
from my mouth

8. i told my table
the elf queen
held me captive

she said
they understood.
you are forgiven

9. red wings
bound
to wood
and hidden
under a coat

10. panic
over eggdrop soup
about having to arrange
for my own stand in
when there is no such thing
as calling in sick

farewell great lake

1. dreams:
dishwasher breaks down during rush

you, writing letters and card-making
while sleeping a bed away
screamraging

standing in line for a show
no
i’m not a resident
of washington county

sandwich assembly line at some circle meeting
joolie and shiz and i
talk smack
about it
fuck sandwiches

2. from the front seat
dad
tells me about how uncle david
smokes smokeless cigarettes
(electronic
with an led light
at the tip
called e-cigarettes)

3. over the phone
veronica
narrates the story
about watching a transformer blow up
in the thunerstorm
first
there was a ball of light

she says
followed by showers
of colored sparks

4. i open
the book
to shel silverstein’s poem
which
if we were in contact
i would photocopy
and fold into an envelope
made out of magazine pages
adressed to you
in curlique letters

5. lunch
at united noodle
with help yourself lemon wedges
dad takes four in his water
i take one
mom, none

6. eight million rivets
holding one wing
together
under sky
expansive as the prairie below

7. lifting up
over leafed-out green
of wisconsin summer

8. farewell great lake
your blues
meetingĀ  sky white blues
at the horizon

9. today
the alert color
for the department
of homoland security
is sequinned hot pink

last stand of poplars falling

1. awake
to an alarming knot
twisted
into even more knots
unsure in my half sleep
if it’s
my gut
or my uterus

2. tea:
nettles
oatstraw
raspberry leaf
green jasmine

3. plus hot breakfast cereal:
pecans
sesame seeds
cranberries
raisins
pink lady apple
with threespice comination
salt
and maple syrup

4. macon and i
glowing
in back porch sun
on wooden chairs
hot tea steam
rising

5. back patio yoga
sun stretching
in orange
plus hot pink
(like sherbet)
against teal mat

6. my healing hands
in exchange
for your shoulder squarshes

7. i pulled one twenty-fifth
of the salad
from our garden

8. it is a day
when a raw food
(un)cook book
left behind
on the dining room table
is not just
a raw food
(un)cook book
left behind
on the dining room table

9. every object
breath
movement
densely loaded
with symbolism
and
metaphor

10. yesterday
it was the last stand of poplars
across the street
falling
today
it is the tangled root system
of this heart
unearthed
in the back yard

11. when i say take care
on the front porch
i mean
every night
the candle
will be lit
for the catastrophe
of missing you

12. soula
brings dinner
doughnuts
and sewing instructions

13. dancefloor extravaganza 2010
soula slips me dollars for
hot bootblack moment
eyebrow tattoos
i pull them by their collar
scrunched in my fist of a hand