coast

in the west where you're from
they hold their words
like this
in their mouth
so it rolls around before barely--
tasting,
the taste of it tastes like fresh fruit
grown in their backyards.
the bitter citrus & warm acid
makes me happy,
because i cannot have them.

a poet you should know is

mao zedong. while reading about j.d. salinger i stumbled across the note that catcher in the rye had sold over 65 million copies worldwide and i wondered- what books have sold the most. obviously religious texts such as the bible and qur'an have reportedly sold a shit ton, but i was surprised to see a book of poetry near the top. mao zedong's poetry to be exact, selling a reported 400 million copies. eat that salinger.


heres a sneak peak

I

Mountains!
I whip my swift horse, glued to my saddle.
I turn my head startled,
The sky is three foot three above me!*

II

Mountains!
Like great waves surging in a crashing sea,
Like a thousand stallions
In full gallop in the heat of battle.

III

Mountains!
Piercing the blue of heaven, your barbs unblunted!
The skies would fall
But for your strength supporting.


you can read more here

times

when i get drunker than i wanna be--
i do this thing where i make
believe;
a happiness is easy

yard tree

green-apple, planted before
we moved to prague
& there when we left.
still nothing sour--
about the year i was four,
memory of falling
& the sounds it made.

run

how you want it to be,
diagonal marks for when you check
yourself in the mirror; clean
the white snot streaks off your sweater sleeve
so it doesn't seem this way,
scratch deep with nails
& let the throat do all the work,
because no one will notice
you, except you.

drive

empty skin pouring out
your neck highways past the window
i don't spend my time
waving my hand out the car
point ahead to where i go
but my naked arms are telling
of the scars that scare me clean
when hell is a place
& i'm sure you & i can agree
it's easier to ignore what hurts
or to make it seem
like something important-- to anyone
else.

georgia

i always fell in love w/ you
again
side by side in a car

smooth

maybe i'll head there,
midnight place for strangers--
lie about who holds onto who,
or settles.
ask who put these rings around
my eyes, mine--
birthmarked wood, axed.
bench & a tree who used to go
up in smoke
when i ran my hand across &
the splinters were there to help
pick out the grain,
or tell me where i should sew it.

happens to me
now
happen to you

left

in the sticks or where you go
boon to epileptic bane--
i'm bragging because i'll
leave with-out you
hear mountain calls from a lover neck
up & down any hemisphere
but
all of these mentions of get out
are encouragements
for my own escape of life

skins

she nicks your heel
w/ the axe-pick from the shed
her father bought
in the 70's
at the rendezvous re-enactment--
before she was born.
but you didn't know
she still had it.

rabbit after midnight

sprint the blue moon, too far
for us to feel
when your ears perk-up
as i kiss at your neck for days,
long tails
swift over the powdered snow,
so i can follow them
again & again, where you like.

scattered

the strength of the drink
quiets the stampede.
belief in sand hills
hid by pasture & laughter,
arcane antelope speaks for--
knows god & all.
prairie fire every inch of it
between soiled souls
of feet, i am, nothing
but grass grown in slow gait,
measurements over ground,
layered dust, etc.


cedar canyon

so they come
from reaches of western nebraska
bluffed over broken teeth
of pan-
handled mothers'
midnight wondering, their shoulders
shrug to forget what their sons do
on gravel-road-feet, unphased
by the sting
(north american whisky & cheap
reservation cigarettes)
howling—
we have the option to sin—
at the prairie moon

no fish

there was no rain last night
woke up early
hoping we might go fish south of town,
a man-made lake
& no fish even swim there.
just want to sit in a boat,
& wait
for anything to bite,
not say a single word
about why you think nobody loves you,
or complain
about how things never worked out
the way we anyone wanted,
or understand why
we never bring any bait.

signal

feel the earth on your feet
so the snakes know why you're there
venom in the morning
a drip
for you my darling
cut through the thick bananna leaf
or cocaine fields--

see the smoke rising along
the latin american coast
to let the peregrine find another meal
somewhere

in the middle

i pulled a womans hair from my mouth
& spit
what morning had left me in a can beside my bed.
i am not sure
where she came from
having not been w/ anyone for months,
but there she was
hanging from my mouth; a lure.
making me question
who
sleeps in my bed besides me,
frustrated because i was just getting used
to myself
i had come to terms w/ forgetting bodies.

cave

notice more & more
this howl from a tooth--
ache
warns you of the cold
that swells old injuries
or the broken candies
you sucked
for days.