In early morning
Stillness
A train whistle
Split and traveled
Fast
Bending trees
And raking grass
The shockwave
Slammed
Straight into me
Shaking
Picture frames
And aging meat
From well placed
Hooks
Inside my brain
-me


In early morning
Stillness
A train whistle
Split and traveled
Fast
Bending trees
And raking grass
The shockwave
Slammed
Straight into me
Shaking
Picture frames
And aging meat
From well placed
Hooks
Inside my brain
-me

The springtime sounds
Of sawing wood
I never hear in winter
Redemption rides
Warm temperatures
To fix what freezing splintered
-me

I love to run my lips
Along my freshly lacquered nails
Their sturdy smoothness soothes me
And I do it quite incessantly
As if to reassure myself
That comfort always lives
Only a hand gesture away
But nearly simultaneously
I feel the urge to flinch
To part my lips and teeth and jaw
And bite down hard
To leave behind a dented scar
Along one perfect surface
Erasing all symmetric sureness
Playing with my own desire
To allow and to deny
And so sometimes I bite
And when I do I always know
Which nail my lips will seek out first
-me

And then
There was
A canyon
When I had
Only dreamt
Of seas
-me

Shattered
Glass bottles glisten
On a freshly
Lined lot
And I
Find myself wishing
I am somewhere
I’m not
-me

Today I sat
With resistance
A hive of bees
Behind the walls
Of my chest
And frenzied
Making their way
In all directions
Burrowing inside
The drywall
Of my thighs
Roaming random
Down to my
Dead end toes
Bumping on bone
And turning
Churning over
Each other
Through my middle
Frantic flitting
Up my throat
Wildly swirling
Inside my mouth
Alighting on
The lightly sealed
Line of my lips
Crawling and testing
I could feel them
Trying and tickling
With antennae against
The soft corners
Of my mouth
Exploring
For weakness
And tempting me
To open up
And let them out
-me

When we used to walk
Our neighborhood
At night
You’d point out those towers
Blinking red antennae
And tell me
To meet you there
Should the world collapse
Well it did
And you didn’t
And now
Somehow I end up
At those towers weekly
Alone
And the sign I pass
As I drive away
“Rent a Dream”
Speaks more truth
Than you ever did
-me

This isn’t a story
Of said soot-covered bird
Shaking free
And flying easily
No, this is a tale
Of embers still around me
Smoldering and dying
It’s hot as hell
And filthy here
There’s barely air
For breathing
And darkness only
Pierced by flame
Searing my skin
I’m fighting to survive
Again
At some expense
I’m choking
Rising is not winning
It is instinct
To stop the pain
To find cool wind
Sweet oxygen
And to postpone
The end
-me
