He heaved that dog all the way up the hill behind our house
Wet fur and maggots coming right out his ass
Papa sweating.
All the smells thickening in the heat.
I've seen him cry a hundred times but
these tears came right out of his chest
he didn't breathe.

the truck made it town, anyway

doesn't she just look like a movie star?

Last night again--- my dreams are staying with me.

a river of people swimming frantically away --towards safety-towards the other shore-mud and tall reeds.
A bus and a Native American lover. Gut pulling fear and being held from behind. Big hands on my face that I might never feel blood warm again. Kissing and licking them and feeling his belly against my back. "don't you do this to me"
sharp want
sweat stinking trunks of cars
gunshots

My chair is blue and hard. I feel the tiny rivers in it's surface
and my arm is bruised
Inching all the way around the skin puckers and shines.
The hair folicles stand up and curl at the ends.


I slept in my car on the street.
I worked for poor jazz.
I haven't thought like this in a long time..
I had hoped I never would again.

Soft baking shoulders
bending into and under
currents of sweet breath.

You couldn't be lighter on your feet
with water curving aggressively around your calves
keeping us both half hoping.

The dance fumbles
thin as air
expanding inside my chest.

This motion is the pearl of the afternoon.

Slowly all feet murmur in the morning fog
and lights shine from the walls of locked buildings.


I don't need to control my mind to have a happy life...

I said what I meant
(not so eloquently like I had hoped)
and kissed her feet

"your love is boundless"

I was suprised by the letter but it fell right into place as if I'd already carved perfectly sized little holes for the words in my mind. Ready to hold them comfortably and let them rest.

another reason to keep.

What did I say to Woods?
Freedom, I think.
In as many aspects of the word as I can fathom.

I remember when you left.



I kept your hair in a box for years
and when I found it it was as soft and perfect as that dusty afternoon at the train station when you made the cut and pressed it hard into my palm. It's all bittersweet now. Time moves and builds our callouses so that these small sensations can't prickle us every time. These took years to construct.

I wrote, then, about all the voices yelling over the loud air and the huffing engine and of all the construction workers on their scaffolds watching us. I know well the sound of the gravel under my shoes when I walked back.
I don't know where I was going, though... each time seems like that. Bus stations, train stations, driveways.... watching you leave. You probably don't remember at all. You even forgot my body.

Don't think that I am not also thinking about all of the sweet things I will never have again.
Please.

Finding parts of myself that are still just as strong as they were before I put them in hibernation for you.

Finding that I'll still be frowned upon for loving the way that I do. Even from the most unexpected people.

Companionship is a wonderful thing.
I am not so terrible for seeing more than what you see in that.

I don't want to feel ashamed.

Still end up feeling ashamed for things that I would like to be proud of...



"

You better shut your mouth
Hold your breath
Kiss me now you'll catch my death

"
..............................................................................

This is to say:
......

i want peace. And i want my own. And i want
life to show me many different things that will give me chills and smiles. And i want to
always be
determined. For what is worse than losing a spirit?