GHOST PHONE

there was you:

rode past, rode back, mid sentence, i ate my words.

three months of silence unveiled just by you stopping by.

on the porch. five minutes too soon to eat the tart warming in the oven

and infinity minutes

waiting for you to call me back.

and you: 

you had to have seen someone tonight.

all golden headed and fragile, crushing egg shell egos

potentially not even knowing 

your own strength.

but i don't resent you,

it's just that it's quarter to ten, and maybe i didn't know what i was getting into.

you can't win when you're being careful-- 

long thought processes/laborious answers.

you can't win when you're going breakneck neither-- 

eyes shut tight/reckless decisions.

and me:

i'm still here.

i'm still going to be here in may, june, july. august smells like leaving

sort of dusty and brand new at the same time.

going steady side to side;

cracking chicken bones to suck the marrow.

i just sit close to the window

because when i  hear the sounds of small tinny voices

i always hope it's you,

coming over to see me.

and when i pretend i hear footsteps coming up the stairs,

i always look up, breath held short. heart strings tied in bows.

HE SAID

all of my imagining

could never compare

to the bountiful reality

that is your naked body.

UNTITLED

unwound, bristled, braided.

i wish with my seafarers blood i could tie knots.

i would produce entire books, volumes!

of knots meant to tie and untie. help and hinder.

  i find so many knots to untangle

i find so many knots to tighten   

i wish with my seafarers blood i could learn their names.

i would call them out as i wind them into

infinite pieces of string.

BLINDSIDED

your eyes didn't look so blue last night.

i stare: magnolias blooming and just to the right, the neighbor gardening.

everything is in exclamations (!)

this coffee is so good!

i will carve driftwood!

little acupuncture words insert themselves into my head.

we spent at least two hours extra in bed. falling asleep, waking up, waking each other up.

little finger swords swipe, make light marks.

I stare

looking at the feathers tacked to my wall and

knowing that when your eyes drift open

you see me

see me partially seeing everything else.

hair all matted, nipples chaffed.

when you bike away:

after ambiguous plans not plans not able to make plans i stare.

okay.

okay, let's go to lighthouse park.

STINGING NETTLES

you don't remember i want to shake you say it happened!

star eyed pine cone people saw it too.

no one cares except me.

VASELINE

you have, empty promises from a small gray cat.

let's pretend we're all okay

in the corner with warmth, icy sun, dark liquids,

such as coffee

makes pretending easy!

LITTLE BROTHER

Your shirt many days worn
my experimental haircut

we left too late for dawn
but

still silence in the dark car
except Johnny Cash lullabies
to the bald rock faces
and the neon dashboard




in the distance little grey barn ghosts
you keep your foot on the gas

blanket desert to the left
i keep my head against the window
the entire time
these dreams are a bit long in the tooth

i am aware

as sun dog lay dying
on the side of the highway