I was born lost and take no pleasure in being found. Steinbeck.


It was like a blue velvet puddle in the

Early hours of the morning,

It dripped inside her like oil from

A broken tank, splashing down fine bone

Ribs like a ladder to a cold heart.

It was like a thick cloud of flies

With needles of emerald and rust,

Stinging those that passed with such accuracy

That when they saw the puddle, they ran,

Even though they sat like trained dogs

On the thick strands of her hair,

Like rope down her back.

Like the slime under the sand in the creek

Made of years of rotting leaves,

Just when you stand there looking at something

And your feet slowly sink down

Until an ooze seeps like blood,

A silver shimmer,

She wore it like a shawl around her shoulders.

Mirrors in her eyes,

Shattered and glued back together like mosaic,

Some say her lungs were the same way,

Breathing breathe like fragmented colors onto

Your neck, letting is slide into your hands–

Turning into clouds of flies and black slime.

But all you wanted to do was fill her back up with it,

Fill her up to until it ran over her edges,

Cleaning her tears with the stuff,

Rubbing black into the cracks,

And catching the blue velvet oil with gauntlets

Of gold and ivory,

You wanted to put her on a horse

With bread and wine and tell the

Horse to run into the sun.

My City


Shack by the Sea

I was looking for some place to stay

In a city I don’t know.

And it came up on the side of the webpage,

I clicked on it.

“Shack by the Sea”

I don’t know why but I kept looking.

A kitchen, cracked pots and pans, wooden spoons

It comes with a dog, water, but not hot, and some spaghetti.

There’s a door but it doesn’t have hinges and a welcome mat

Please wipe your feet to enter a dirt-floored, single-roomed shanty.

It’s all windows and wood. A house of light and dirt like honey and sticks of cinnamon.

There’s a bed on wooden slats. A blanket with shells cover the dust.

My shirts drying on a clothesline outside, my skin drying in the sun

I smell like oranges and coffee, lemon rind and gin.

Like beach floorboards and toast with tomato and olive oil,

Sea salt and caramel, sweat and sand.

I am a shack with an old kitchen and an old bed,

I am the wooden spoon hanging in the sun and the old

Window frames too thick with salt,

The bottle of opened wine from the night before;

Gin under the sink.

Fish in the sangria bottle, I am the stones at the bottom of the

Ocean that I line the windowsills with, I am the path

To the grocery store that only sells oranges, jamón and fresh bread.

I am the sand in my hair and the shells on my bedspread.

I am the “Shack by the Sea.”


I see you there,

But you don’t see me.


But you only think I’m black.

I see you there pulling apart

My chest and snapping bones like tree branches

Because you like making little clearings in my

Heart so you can stay the night.

But beasts dwell here, you’re not welcome,

They’re going to run you even deeper until

You’re swamped down wondering why

You liked the smoothness of my ribcage.

I see you there,

But you only see the blackness

Wrapping around my throat and down

Between my legs, threading my ankles

Like parchment ribbon.

I see you coming closer,

But I’ll always be far away–

The gold coats my bones,

It runs through my veins,

Flushes my face

And luster to my lips.

You only see the black.

The gold lines the inside of my hipbone

And the feather of my collarbone,

My knuckles are flaking with the stuff.

You only see the black.

Little birds in the inside of my cheek

And  gold thorns in the palm of my hand

Strands of gold in my eyebrows

A little gold leaf drops to the ground,

But to you I’m as black as the night.

Dos Besos

Drop it my love,

Let it fall to the ground,

Shuck the weight like winter clothes

In the face of the sun.

Open your eyes like closed shutters

And look up,

Craning a crooked neck from bending and bitting,

Open your mouth and let the sky fall in.

Let them stare and kick something at your feet,

Let it shine out of you

Be contagious, continuous, uncontainable.

Burn holes in your shoes and throw them to the wind,

Dirty your dusty toes and callous your soul

Make cobblestones from blisters and make black

Your hollow heart.

Take fingertips between the palm of your hand

And dig knuckled nails until the pain is enough

Sweep down the alley,

Start running, let your lungs float, floundering for clouds

Feeling for anger and evaporate it like steamed milk

In black, black coffee like more clouds and then death.

Don’t ask for directions and feel the directions drop

Into your stomach and dissolve in the Heineken

Until miles and miles have slipped through fingers

And filled the cracks forming in your shoes,

Like tectonic plates moving over  cobblestones.

Drop it love,

Let it fall to the ground,

Don’t take it up,

Let somebody else find it,

And if they return it, dos besos cariño.

Loneliness Like the City

Take a drag on the air,

Like a cigarette and let the sweet oxygen

Part your lips like the boy next door.

Paint on the lines like the other girls do

Around your eyes until they’re black like coal

Like your oxygen deprived heart and your struggling lungs

And put the lipstick on only to have it licked off

By the night.

I say look at yourself in the mirror hard and long

Until your vision blurs and finally you look alright

Even though your mom didn’t pick out that dress.

Those shoes in the corner, slide those up on your heel

And try to stand like a queen.

Wear gold in your ears, put the gold on your tongue

Wash it around your mouth and slide it down your throat

Until your insides are gold too.

Smell like the bottom of a brown vanilla bottle

And taste like warm coffee in the morning that’s

Been sitting in his palm as the sun rises.

I say find him and kiss him hard and leave,

He was the right one.

Make every boy want you because they can’t have you

And smile in their faces as gold leaks out of your eye

They try to catch them beads with goblets filled

With ruby vodka and star dust.

As heels crumble and lipstick turns black

I say hide it in the darkness as vanilla turns to

Molten cinnamon and you’re choking even though

Your throat’s made out of gold.

Put a cigarette between slim fingers and sit

On the stairs as it burns and burns and burns

Even though you never put it to your lips

Because your heart is smoking the damn thing

And turning different colors.

I say pick your head up to the moon

Laughing like a dog into the night and look sexy

Then flick the cig away and throw those heels to the dumps,

Find the rain water and wash your face;

Run home with a fist full of flowers and sleep

With them in your bed until the petals

Have washed your skin as you sing like the doves

And hope the loneliness is like the city;

Your heart like the wild, wild west.


There is a gear missing

Inside of me

It connects with the splintering steel spikes of

My diamond thick heart like an uncrackable geode

Except it doesn’t connect anymore, or it was never there.

The organ remains like an untouchable and unreachable

Blood-pumping machine, eating and living and fatal.

There is a gear missing inside of me

That everybody else has, so their bodies work like well oiled machines

And their beautiful eyelashes flicker and lips thick and skin soft

Their blood beautiful, their blood running, blood stunning

Their hearts pumping and feeling and lasting.

There is a gear missing inside of me

Whenever somebody reaches for me I flinch

Because I know it’s going to hurt

When the blood rushes to my fingertips, fingernails like white enamel

It stings me because the spikes growing like spires on my heart

Rip my veins and my tissue

Careening blood soaked bones to the pit of my stomach

Blood rushes to my lips and I think I’m going to die,

Traveling up my throat like sticky reaching hands until

I can’t breathe, until my face is on fire and my eyes

Turn green again and the spires growing inside my rib cage

Start breaking vertebrae.

There is a gear missing inside of me

And I flinch because of it,

Waiting for an internal blow to my knees like

An unseen, oncoming truck traveling at an ungodly speed

Toward my intestines that are already twisting like

Piles of snakes and slithering serpents stinging me like poison

As an arm slithers around my waist, trailing sharp nails as fingernails.

There is a gear missing inside of me

And it makes it hard for me to trust you because any

Movement I make toward you will only result in cracking spires and

Ripping flesh like a war broke out between my bone marrow and bone

Like my fingers hate my joints and my joints can’t move freely and

I’m stuck like a muck filled quick sand swallowing my feet and licking

Flesh from bone, blood from veins, hair from skin.

You know it’s missing now, don’t you?

I gave it my all, I love few things, but I love them with a ferocious appetite

Your tears fall on my hand and my heart scrapes and rattles until my ribs finally

Break and disintegrate, your sadness melting the acid in my stomach

Until all I can taste is your melancholy and my bitterness at the cruelty of it all.


You’re screaming at me now and I’m cowering under the table

I’m finding shelter but I can’t move without my rib cage and my bones

And my blood and my skin. I’m not me. I’m not anything.

Rock spires have taken over my body, my hardened heart growing outward

Until I am a cave of spiraling spittle and rust and star dust.

I don’t have the gear. I don’t have it I whisper into the night.

I can’t. I won’t. I don’t. There is a gear missing inside of me that should connect to my heart.

Winter Mornings

I’ll let you kiss me, she said

If you tell me the color of my eyes

But he just stared without any notion of time

As he lead her to his cold bed.

I’ll let you touch me, she whispered

If you tell me why you love me so

As he brushed along her cheek his faint whiskers

And held her there as she tossed to and fro.

I’ll let you hold me, she stuttered

As he wrapped his arms around her small frame

And let her fall asleep to mutter

The thing most dear to her, his name.

I’ll always love you, she dreamed

As his breathe came in and out

As he kissed her cheek clean

Of her abundance of self doubt.

But I always have to leave, she thought

As she stared at his sleeping face

She slipped out the door into the cool frost

Leaving footprints for him to always chase.

Peach Tree

There’s a tremor in my hand now

And it comes and goes like the tide

When I most need to be still,

When I need every muscle to silently obey the quiet

A tremor comes–

My eyes are turning green now,

Like ivy slowly digesting the crumbling bricks of a house

The soft brown is bleeding out and back into the earth

And when I need to blend in,

When I need every scar to fade in the light,

The green comes.

Words do not materialize now,

Their tangibility is lost like wind wisps in the winter air–

My mouth opens and teeth fall out like polished pearls

Into the beautiful red and green stones below my feet

Words like teeth, words like pearls, carried down the river

Until they grow like seeds, bloom like flowers

Picked like ivory,

When I need to touch the words spilling forth

When I need to say what’s internalized and rotting inside,

Moss grows over the old feelings and anger like rotting wood–

My teeth don’t fall to the ground but my body floats down the river.

I grow into a peach tree and my fingers grow upward

And my words become the seeds and peaches grow

There is no longer brown there,

My eyes are just green

And the wind shakes my branches

As if a small tremor passed through my trunk–

And for a brief moment,

There is silence and I am me again.


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