Thoughts at a crowded bar:

It’s louder than I remember I remember it more like a first grade whisper. The telephone game. What began as honest became disjunct and altered. People would surrender. The last words were always “Pass it on”. The same thought could not last through ten people without getting–Lost. Across ears. Wires were not necessary. I did not mind the absurdity. Even at ten, I’d beam at the chance to change someone’s past. I wanted nothing but to be a crystal ball.

Four Squares

Ouch. You hurt. Me? I’ll never mind it I’m the one who loved your freckles first. I’m your island, remember me. Please. I have not accepted that you are to leave. Bound for Chicago words and Chicago wind–Chicago friends. Take us with you. If you forget me–I couldn’t dream anymore–what would be my point? My punctuation marks–have always been with you so I cannot imagine any–everything without a You. What will I do? You are my poetry. You are my purity–and clean–you are my sanity–my best fire. I would burn for you, embrace the entire sun for you. My once upon a time. My thumb when it prints. My film. My music. My wagon wheel.

I am Freezing

She’s a lot of what I hoped to be clearer. She’s afraid she does not have enough symmetry. She doesn’t listen when I tell her beautiful things–but is impressed by a man who tells her the same, in the same way. She melts with the moon. The moon is her best friend. I am second to the moon. But she sees me too. Tragic–that’s us. What happened to us–what will happen to us? When she looks back I’m scared I’ll be a gonner like the wind. And then–it is then she will finally fall weak at the sight of our trees as every word we made tries to twist free. 

the elaborate boy

On crisp mornings
he likes to gather tears
and seek stories.

And I
am silent 
As I sit and watch
the elaborate boy

And I
see nothing
But sordid worship
And sleep like sweat
slightly blinded by the light 
Coming from his palms

“This is possible,”
I say to myself.
I’ve seen this before
In certain children
Because they have been here before

And every morning
They gather to listen
As I sit
About beauty.

A speech about “The imaginary boy”

He didn’t wreck it all at once. That’s what I liked about him. It showed he had control. 
I had control. By control I mean I took my meds, obeyed my parents, parted my hair in the right place and kept a gun out of my hands so I didn’t blow my brains out when I got the urge to. By control I mean I eat the right foods and think the right thoughts.
I obey my mind, but my mind does not obey me. Please do not pity me– save those looks for someone else, for I’ve experienced happiness so stupefyingly high that your hands would burn off at the touch of it. I’ve jumped off of walls and bounced back smiling. I’ve loved madder than anyone in between the bars. I’ve been a witness– to love so wonderful I couldn’t stop the bleeding. I’ve cried all the way back to my birth. Just once, I’d like to be the person who just lives. Who doesn’t slow down moments. Who doesn’t have to look away. Who doesn’t have to stop the voices. Who doesn’t have to change. I envy
The people who can look at their left hand
and just see a left hand. People call me thinker. miss melancholia. She’s real quiet they’d say. A brooder. A poet. I want to blink– without seeing rolls of prose spilling out of chairs, and sky and eyes and computers and skin. To take an unconscious breath. To not fall in love with the beautiful girl who’s sitting all alone.

4 AM

for Robyn .

let’s lay our bones to rest,
my friend.

This dust has been collecting
Us for days now
Our days are years.

No beginning
Or ending

It is always four AM
Where we are
It’s always four AM

Lay your bones to rest
My friend

You’re gonna
Dance yourself
To death