i am inviolable.


how to be a goddess (write it)


how to be a warrior: continue on with life (editing)


how to be a secret (write it)


be a maze. (write it).


be a question mark. (write it)


become a smile.


chamomile 7.jpganother cancer sun is here. I finally completed the blue book: just needs a polish, easy edit, and all the postcards redone and edited and it’s ready for print and constant, obsessive recitation.



you’ve tired of her.

her proletarianism without true
protest; her feigned
laughter, shallow interests,
encroaching hum that spins into
white noise in the background while
you begin to obsess over
another actress.

you’ve been watching lions move.
you’ve been memorizing motion.
you’ve been stating needs and retreating
and some keep stepping closer.
where’s the knife inside of you?

I’ve been eavesdropping.
I’ve been spinning webs.
you’ve been seeing kittens
but I see
you’ve been watching the
hunt in cats.
I see you play mirror
poised in lunge,
back low  and
jungle all
you’ve been seeking
kittens and I’ve been stroking

 catching mice as traps
to rip it from your
nervous breath.


red lipstick,
kind of dry and
no purse
in hands that

hips as we are talking.
she is distracted by her
reflection and
talks with expressions

and a visible

“how guys save me in their phone”

the edges of your skin
snap at your acerbic joints
as your bones break the flesh
and you take a few steps back
to collect yourself;
picture days with your family
in green and laughter and now,
the interminable quiet
that spans highways,
urns like
everyone’s in.

you see my lips in the
red as fresh hell,
soft like fresh pain,
your new lover is plain
and you are scared of
the ice in my veins,
the way I change shape
from arctic to comet
and rock splits your
face and the bone breaks
the flesh and you
are taking a few steps back

you said
my name.


grow something from our
sudden valediction;
something sweet to chomp while I’m
choking down
the acidic no so

I plant the cherry tree
and scrape the bark
for pages    write
us everywhere.