“LIFE IS SHORT. THANK YOU ANCESTORS.”

You know what I’d kill for?

A primitive Italian Madonna and Child.

In the meantime, I made my own:

2 gold leaf arches to frame my mother (dead)

and my daughter (bad girl)

2 strong women framing

me (little mouse)

between them – 

Where do you come from?

Worried people. The land.

Where do you want to go?

Pink potatoes. Apple core under

the driver’s seat.

Somewhere safe

where they will have me. 

HAPPINESS

Health/money/business/love

rainbow candle from LA,

once it’s lit you’re not supposed to blow it out

but I just made a deal each time:

little death wish

little hope chest

the quilt was made of patches

stuffed with pantyhose

our boyfriends were bad,

we needed to hide or run to the woods

arms spilling with animal babies

the Broadway thrift stores smelled like lotion

we discovered stretch and mesh

and 80s radio, mocha dregs in the bottom

of a holiday paper cup,

heater headache

hours and hours of

particle happiness

lost,

lost is a thing

you built yourself

branches that were papers

taped to the wall

then trashed

what kind of thing are you

to love

does it feel like a pin prick

a leaf caught in hair

is it ever assault  

cold water

clean --

NEVER BE SORRY

The easiest face

to draw

two lines, dots, then hair

again and again

like wall paper

smile to break

the room

a flower trapped in tape

old burger place your dad

used to take you to

never be sorry

PLEASE

because I wanted a fresh slap, a cut lined with honey that might stick to the walls as you passed them, maybe I’m looking to secure these certain germs myself, gestural promise that a wind that smells like coriander destiny isn’t all it will take to carry you off to the rich, green valley where the women are robust and lunch is a circle and I’m not invited or noticed or real

FIRST DEATH

When the matriarchs die

we pray that the neutral Gods

of clean lines, no centering

will step aside, swap out for their

rambunctious, aromatic alter egos

the un-hushed – 

old hospitality

parting gifts of

fish and flowers

(plus color)

let us sleep knowing

that everyone has

tried

THE WAY OF SAINT ANNE

If Anne had been born into a basket

not rolled across Canada into the arm

of someone so lonely

if Anne had had brothers, sisters

if Anne had had daughters

 -- Anyways, Anne finds her way to me

(silver oval in the wet laundry

mystical cheap French church trinket

thank you whoever washed clothes

before)

Anne had sons, and was a gremlin woman

who also spoke sophistication fickle

like a dinner flame

and hated that name,

Anne

keeper of:

lace makers lost articles carpenters childcare providers

people equestrians grandparents miners mothers moving house

old clothes dealer poverty pregnancy seamstresses stablemen

sterility teachers

lonely on the cruse ship, lonely in the cabin

lonely watching for rain or sewing herself

to the cushions

someone said I looked like her

and even though she was beautiful 

I took it as an insult – 

Anne would have done the same.

HONEYMOON

in the flavored fog

there was blamelessness

before we agreed to

any transformations

I tasted metallic, right there

hands sticky with orange

halting the daily

spins

I miss us both

your arm out the window

as I ran

down the stairs

STOMPING GROUND

New York body, Godzilla lipstick

double Kali trucker hat

mind always blown so she

kisses crescent ink to forehead

to keep the stuff from oozing out

You boys have a good time?

stayed out a little too late – that’s ok.

I’m young. Full of energy.

Steam the milk, make the change

so long as spells don’t sour in replication

viral witchcraft must be a good thing, right?

Somebody rich bought a bunch of tan land

for spiritual purposes

the violet mountain pile

could claim any number of nostalgias

but her girl is my girl

so the air stays still

while you shout

YADDA YADDA

low key battle

would be ultimatum 

(commercial break) 

something cozy vs something

fierce

same poem for years now

come on be DIRECTIVE

(commercial break)

don’t tear up again

girl who

cried girl

the rise and fall of

anger wave

grind it up red

see the gem

inside

the curl 

SOMETHING DIFFERENT

Paul’s hair if I

braided it, home birth

clean sheets in the trunk

vinyl boo

boo

the sea smell of the thrift store

under the off ramp in Louisiana

or sometimes Bulgaria

when I’m falling

asleep

polite sentences of a foreign male

educated in Anglo-academia

I want the thing I start

to be made

of nothing

a thousand contradictions

so dense they let me

float

ROLE PLAY

The bright lines are in the haze

follow them with your impartial snout

root for softening or just reflect

exasperation in a new calm jingle:

you’re really devastated by this

running a business must be really hard

what I’m hearing is you want to be heard

BEST PRACTICES

we could give so much up. chewing gum and privacy.

we could catch this wheel mid-roll and trap it in a borrowed

terrarium before we have to re-invent it. we could curate the junk,

methodically: all the first attempts, the righteous feverish ones 

in diorama display while the second shots – more humble – drape friendly 

in brighter corridors. in the lobby they’ll ask you to sit criss-cross 

on the floor, kiss your ankles to your tails, bow to the milk white antlers 

arranged in six point star and scrape the playdo off your paws

cast that residue offering high across 

the good architect’s

sunshine.

SCANNING

The story goes

they moved to a bad place

to start a good life

they told their loved ones

“there are no bad places” or 

“nothing new happens

in a good place”

they counted good things

and bad things

aiming for harmony

one day the lousy GE clock radio

scanned, then latched

to a fresh mellow

millimeter murmur

between the sports and

classic rock

HEART THROB

sad evil sweetheart

with the pretty snake

hair

lashes that fan, beckon

shadow-carve

a dangerous place

at his side

now he’s awful

and we, the devotion club

keep tabs and miss him

write messages

in the night

think of colors

to tell him about

when he’s happy enough

to hear

CO-HOUSING

The compound is clean, just ski clutter

once-wet health food now crust

dripping snow sculptures around the

frozen pond

dogs cats dogs playmobil

where worries include:

happiness being boring

guilt being rhythmic

that families smile different

in visitor parking

AT LAST

When I finally become a woman

I’ll sneeze myself into something

more/less durable

a bride’s caress

with pruner’s strength

blue diamond filtered water kiss

against the hatchback

darling  darling  darling

I’ll say

this is the right decision

today is the first day of the rest of our

decisions

DAVE’S MOM (SHELLY)

It was a dark place

camo walls camo blankets

burl stools, pepsi cups

but she was his mom and he wanted

to show her to me and me 

to her

it was slow, there wasn’t anything

to talk about

except crime, or the cold

or whatever was on tv

he really loved her

so much

he was proud of her

her deck garden 

her night job

how she never got

that mad

ONTARIO STREET

Thank You For Doing Your Laundry

With Us,  Please Come Again.

Soap bleach softeners 75 cents.

Red/silver garland around the column.

Green garland around the white picket fence.

Smile 😀 you’re on camera. 18 minutes now.

Crime & Drugs Tip Line 233 2161.

Your cooperation is appreciated. Ms. Pacman.

American Meditation Institute: A powerful decision holds us captive.

Read about the remedy starting on page six.

9 screens in the monitor camera and 3 have

VIDEO LOSS. Soap, bleach, softeners.

Pushing stop will end cycle.

Start up will require full price to start.

Snow village Xmas scene in the window display.

Now its 9:08. Folding counter.

If anyone comes in, I’m writing grocery lists.

Island Liquors across the street.

Open 7 days a week. (t – 06 minutes).

LIVING TOGETHER

The river is melting our neighbor Jen watches from her rope chair

her facebook friends don’t believe in global warming

but look at that river she says and she’s right the oily pink

is breathtaking the crows are rioting her cigarette’s still long

after talking about cops I rush upstairs to try and remember

everything that’s good and everything that’s bad

hashtaggratitude you said when you crashed into bed last night

I had already been there for a while more morose than I’d like

to admit but the river is distracting it is deep and full of secrets

what did we do all year long

we got sunstroke on the deck we ate dinner

sometimes in silence we woke up startled we raced each other

to the kettle the shower we fought and we fought

and made a million contracts

we marveled at the mustard colored sediment that collects

beneath the cushions and laughed about the things

that matter least and most