A tribute

thank you for telling me everything was my fault
'cause that fault-line crack in my confidence
has become one of my favorites.
a favorite fissure filled with gold
like Japanese pots and Van Gogh paintings of sunflowers

and thank you for taking what I gave ungratefully,
your great greed rive guidance to my dreams.
dreams overwhelmed with your absence,
with furious flames of affection, with toothy grins
and thank you's, so many thank you's

speaking of which, thank your for wresting from
my trembling fingers what I was unwilling to give.
your teeth drawing colorful scarves from between my teeth
of stifled cries, caressing fingers fitful nights, and gagging humiliation

and in case I forget, thank you for pretending you escaped unscathed
from between my claws and from between my legs.
my thick, muscular tentacles relinquishing you readily
into your ravenous hunt for fresh meat to bury
your loneliness in

case you forget, thank you for not being unscathed.
for being your own prophecy told and retold
om miserable, unwilling whispers of how
none of us sirens were notches in anything but your bones
and when your closet vomits out your skeleton
you can't hide from us anymore

At least I learned to acknowledge my broken femurs
and slicing, broken-glass-edge defense mechanisms.
I learned it from wanting to antithesis myself of you.
so thank you for being yourself, for being mean,
for being blind, for being insecure and shattered

Here's to you. may this tribute be like mouthwash,
cleansing and burning and forcing you to
shut the fuck up
even if it's only for 45 seconds or so

Our women

I tell you what, they know deep
My aunties, they wrap their firm, old arms 'round every neck
Sowing kisses like seeds and heartache, and I tell you what
For every name they recall like catechism they know stories
Like honey and vinegar, sepia photos and tales
Of deep mountain moonlit mischief & how Grandmaw used to make cornbread
And how Grandmaw stopped making cornbread when her memory abandoned
Her life stretching into thinner threads of flashing snapshots til they snapped
And she was gone
The decadence of the soil of our home and how it's not our home anymore
Our women carry heritage in their bones and playfulness in their grins
They are broken and brave, stubborn and kind, our women are the bards
Who burden their backs with the aches of yesterday and the glories of tomorrow
I tell you what, my aunties, they know deep
Exploring catacombs and mine shafts with the lights burning in their eyes
And I tell you what, I know where my blood comes from
I know where my pride comes from
Because I am our women now.

Our men

Muted majesty, powerful men amble outside
Their steps are heavy and slow, cigarettes hanging famliarly from their
Sticky lips, their conversations held in low grumbles of laughter
Eyes that have seen so much twinkle with practiced mischief
Breaths full or beer and mirth rise from their belly
They talk of hard times, what their daddy did, what they did
They talk about the earth, they talk about the railroads
Telling of the rocks and mines and metal that forge their blood
My family, my kin, these are our men, they kiss their women, leathery cheeks
Adding extra vowels to their doting nicknames, drawling
"Honey"s and "baby"s sink into my ears and my heart and I know
These are our men, broken and earnest, passionate and reckless,
Gentle and growing older

Our baby girl & P.S.

It's a great irony that I write poems to forget you
Because my poetry is a piece of me
It's like giving birth to your child but she is born hating you
and she will grow past her daddy issues to become
Breathtaking. Magnificent. Powerful.
For every wound you donated to me
she will heal someone else's
Your most kind and productive offspring
is the one that shows your ugliness
The Beauty whose kiss makes you into the Beast
And I will love her unapologetically
'cause I'm sure you'll never apologize
I will be fine. I will be seen. I will be loved.
I'm already fine.
I'm already seen.
I'm already loved.
And our Baby girl, born of grief
will grow wings
and wear crowns of leaves and
With a wink she'll be swept up in the wind
And I'll finally let her go
Because it's time to move on
And this time I believe it's true that
you are not worth the effort

P.S.
I hope a woman stronger than me
draws you in to the quagmire of her eyes
and leaves you there to languish
I hope you never learn so that
she will inhabit different shapes
and drown you over and over
and I hope she does it just
because she's bored
and you're an asshole

"All you meant was" or "I already wrote a poem about you"

I already wrote a poem about you
I'm supposed to be over this shit but
You seem so lonely and my heart
orients itself towards your North
When I ask, you shrug and tell
me not to read into everything
All you meant was that you've given up
All that you meant was you gave
the universe and ultimatum
I say, "cool. well if you wanna chill, hit me up."
All I meant was, cool. well if you wanna chill, hit me up
The next day you ask for me to unveil you my body
I didn't offer that, who do you think you are?
But I'm just being defensive and
you tell me not to read into everything
The lava in my belly rises towards my lips
As the injustices of your fists disturb my rocky roots
My claws extend reflexively and
I put on my boxing gloves
To contain them, 'cause my intent
was never to cut but to caress
But I let my arms hang limp at my sides
When the lava erupts it pours
out of my eyes instead of my mouth
And I would rather cry than fight because
my strength offends you, my softness confounds you
I'd rather confound than contend
You're not worth the effort
and I wish I believed that

I want to affection you to death
but with each embrace you strike me and
Shout, "I'm fine! Why are you here?
Stop reading into everything!"
And I cry 'cause all I meant was,
"Let me love you. Let me try."
All you meant was, you were never
anything more than sex, bitch
All you meant was, let me reel you in
and mock you for getting caught
You drop my body on the dock,
gasping gills, and you laugh as I
Embody the was your ventricles
crystallize and your heart suffocates
from too much oxygen

You may never know to regret this
but I will be sure to haunt the
negative space in your paintings
To make sure the whites of your eyes
pale in fear of what never was
I want to goodbye you into so many yesterdays
that I only remember the tattoos across your chest
and that there are some people you soften for
I'm just sad it wasn't me but
I'm just glad it wasn't me
Bye. Goodbye. Goodbye, Goodbye.

Tired of f*cking love poems

Love is looking down the barrel of a loaded gun and screaming "shoot!"
Love is glacier-carved paths of patience dragging through your insides
Love is over-full bathtubs, warm water havens from chilling outside air
Love is crackling halves falling, lightning-stricken, away from mighty trees
But I'm tired of love, talking about it, hearing about it, finding it frequent in my thoughts
I want to drill love shut into a wooden box and toss it deep into a hole I dug
out of fresh black earth. I want to bury it with my dreams
endless bright trajectories, full of learning and adventures
But I want love to be buried so deep that it suffocates and decomposes

How can something so tragic and fragmented be beautiful? And please tell me
How something so breathtaking can be so violent and terrifying?
They tell me it's because I don't know, to "just wait. you'll see.." But f*ck that!
I don't want to know, and I hate myself for wanting to know so desperately
People can keep their loaded shotguns and dying, charred tree trunks
People can keep their chilling air and warm tubs of running water
Because alone is a pain I can trust, it's a pain that understands me with
fewer tangles and chains, more familiar aches, and a hunger I am learning to deny
I suppose this is a poem about commitment issues, but welcome to the mess
I'm done apologizing for my romance gag reflex

Because I'm hurting..
And I've thrown myself from every cliff I could find
Now I'm wondering why all my bones are broken

Virulent

When will my poems stop being
so violent with virulent images
marching across stricken, sleepless
eyeballs?
What does virulent mean? I forget
It sounds intriguing, it's a sharp word
and would pair nicely with
"slice" "pierce" or "shards"
like steak with dry red wine
And here I go again, wanting
to make things bleed

If I was a famous artist I would
use a paint-roller to spread crimson
paint across a blank canvas and
I'd sell the painting for $23 mil
And say, "This piece was wrenched
from my veins, like life and love...
This piece was painted with the
pulsing pieces of my confetti cardiac muscles
And someone will buy it for
$23 mil plus tax and hang it
on the white walls of his house
calling my suffering art
I'll laugh at him 'cause that
paint cost me $10 at Lowe's, but
it's red so he'll use it to tame
the bulls, but after a while
the blood will make him crazy
because he'll be able to smell it
in the dust of the plaza del toros

But to be honest, I'd much
rather set shit on fire than
make it bleed because fire
is so majestic, romantic even
And it demolishes. Everything.

6.7.16



Definition: Virulent (adj.)
1. (of a disease or poison) extremely severe or harmful in its effects

2. bitterly hostile
3. my affection
4. what I think love is