2012 the summer of love

one confirmed dead in denver due to butane poisoning

the coroner asks his parents if he was a huffer

i eat paint chips for breakfast & cough up blood

i’m skinny after all the college binge drink wastes down the toilet bank

two beard growers give me a mason jar of rocky mountain tar

black cannabis oil glass paddle dabs

i don’t hear about this stuff for years and here everyone is doing it

if you’re under 18 it’s not even cool to smoke the flowers anymore

but i like the blossoms

two summers ago i am wrong to blow off the hollywood smog as being worthless

it holds the ghosts of movie stars & implants who wait for their break in heaven

hell’s work is holy & i am the goddess who will save it

            

Autocorrect

the dog is snoring in the lazy boy and if he wakes up i’ll disappear

rapture is a fever in the dead summer

sticky lungs behind a metal parapet over the ocean

my grandmother’s third floor balcony

she forgets how to get home in a hurricane

the problem with memorizing directions is i always get lost

stuck in a caravan of angry bombers on their way to city hall

i am lonely for alcohol and the masons will never be free

it is stupid to say it is always a pin drop in a record table

Retrieval

get back to the old steam at the end of cedarwood

apples ferment on the brown ground

the back of my gun skull

farmer’s electric fence                 gone

in my snow shoe adventures

the time i crack my head open on a post and bleed in the snow

the doctor super glues my skin

i go to sleep

the last year of harford haystack cornfield

rolling in the bluejay

my mother is more beautiful than me

with so much to look at

around rocks road

power lines between the trees

don’t mention me on monday

marry me in the fall

capture the first man horizontal from the steel building

an airplane is too obvious

a typewriter makes room for a red guitar

in the back of my car

it is winter again and i think about tradition

how it changes the air between hands

i grapple with future hen eggs for posterity

the eventual reality collapsing down on top of me

suffocate my salvation before my knees hit the floor

dear god i love you

forgive the time i shun your son in front of his mother

charge through the cedarwoods

someone i can’t see

afraid to open my eyes

no sound comes out

my father saves me

i am fire in the brush

the briars on my shoelaces

scratches from a thorn bush

run barefoot bleeding drunk from fat police officers

i don’t know when i lose them

i hide in his house

plead sanctuary inside the seven souls of my body

all the holy sisters—is this too far gone?

the back field full of horses

bleed one to feed a pack of starving bats

thankfully faints before i get my hands in

the moon full of my youth parts before me

red in hazel witch eye                        crystal noose

     bareback switch

flies born from cow’s milk

gather there to pray

the time years later i want to lie by the stream

there’s houses now

a brand new development on cedarwood hill

the stream is sad and trashy

drags tired minnows to their dead die death

i swim in the air it isn’t fair that i travel still

while they sigh in soft decease

up to my waist humid and pale

pallid oars pry heavy stones from their cuneiform graves

i clear a field to seed my earthen blueprints

Document 4

the pieces of paper cannot be the only path

to stand on tall reams against a red sky & scream from my throat

my chest on fire from all the hearts i swallow

to be brave enough to stand on two bare feet in tough gravel

bellow madness from my uterus cunt & clitoris

change a young girl’s night despite the soulless bodies of once before

never before men who pounce on lonely dumpsters

my first night in america & he steals the blue dream from inside of me

in sinai i barter for barren teeth of asps that would trap me in dark coils

in mississippi i wade through leeches & sentry spider webs

stretch a million millimeters wide

to capture careless creatures without their pocket knives

jungle juice swims red violent in my head

vodka tosses blows with witty comebacks & vacant remarks about nonsense

the place of it in my mouth

i gag myself on his dick he comes through the back of my skull

a metal gunshot wound i survive

enjoy am stronger

each sunrise i sit a little taller in the deep canyon

to think this would be full of water

i relax into crystalline void

the acid place where my mind is patient & black

i pass a thousand images in an instant

i have no visuals for three years now it is all cerebral

i root in hieroglyph & lie about my origins

where do words come from? they preexist me

to discover myself in the alley with marcus aurelius

making drunk music on the mossy dumpsters

it’s a mixture of blues & percussive wolves who live inside a grand piano

a collaborative effort at unifying the diverse realms of forefathers and saintly dragons

who forgive fat foolish knights on their asses fair

we write a one act play fit for a troupe of medieval troubadours on their way to bhàlaigh

their horses jump whole castles

to create new verses that will never rhyme

only laugh at words and the outdated way in which we use them

i would rather the words work through me

to do something beside sit on the page

all stacked up cannot be everything

i am angry & in love it is a volatile combination

i blossom into one rare cassette tape

where the cellar rats migrate in the winter

where the bats go deaf from echolocation

where i harbor contagious wrecks of old mexican motor homes on a dust road

my tires red with elk blood

i dry heave alphabets into a rosebush on arapahoe

i melt on top of the iron fireplace into a plastic puddle of lighter fluid

bubble in macbeth’s maggot mead gruel

i am cruel to antelope

make jokes about their horns and how they are men masturbating in prison

i am mademoiselle matriarch & i mate with a black mountain bear

who roars each morning to wake up the alpines

i forget about the former he element that stands so present

before my last flight to baltimore

in boulder i choke on cough drops

i won’t come to a logical conclusion by hosting imaginary symposiums on my mental state

if anyone gives me a hand grenade i will lob it over the fence of congess

march up to each fat fuck and spit in potter’s eye

i am adverse to what a good strong current that trickles down & dries out

here                         i can evolve

sprout legs

or swim back the way i come