Catch

It is difficult to write

poetry

when you don't know

who you are.

It is difficult to know

who you are

when you don't write

poetry.

Dumbass

So you tell yourself
you are in love
without realizing
you don't even know
how to fall;
to be in love, anymore.


But you tell yourself
it doesn't matter
this time-
you're going to make it work.


Because you tell yourself
you need this,
love, that is.


And you tell yourself
it's time to move on
before you even know
what time it is.


And you start to crush,
like a kid,
though you've forgotten how
to crush-
how to be a kid.

Still Air

Sitting in your passenger seat,

silent hands that won't sit still,

my world

hinges

for a moment

on the hope that this won't be a phase.

Hope that one day I won't drink

that apple flavored beer

and think back

about how happy we were.

That yours are the last lips

mine beg to kiss;

that this is the last time I fall in love.

Early Winter

I've thought about you

every day

for the last six weeks,

Every day.

I don't even think about myself

that often.

And I want you

to tell me what to do

about it,

but I can't tell you,

"about what?"

Chirp

I am a small bird.

My life is short.

I sing beautiful songs

all day

and make myself

invisible

when the weather is good.

And each year I mate,

build a nest;

nuture.

Then we fly away.

And my life is short.

Wake up

The familiar bar

bathrooms.

Spent tampon apllicators

in the men's room,

my own name on the wall

in someone else's handwriting.

Piss

that seems to go on forever.

Ache

A conversation

comprised

entirely of unasked

questions.

Remembered,

but not.

This is what real people

prepare for.

72

If you constantly

remember

the people who forget you,

does that mean

you constantly forget

the people who remember you?

You'll never know.

The nature of forgetting.

Perhaps

the only perfect

human interaction

is when two people meet

and mutually forget.

Maybe

In my chest

there may be a glowing ember,

I haven't checked.

Just blow on it, baby.

And I don't know

if it's feathers or scales

on my back, I can't see it.

Scratch it once, baby.

And I'm not sure about my ears.

Everyone is so loud;

I may be deaf to a whisper.

Whisper baby, just whisper to me once.

Band-Aid

Someone else's wedding bells
are ringing in my ear;
someone else's private hell
is really what I fear.

I find myself in indecision
as you walk away;
subject me to my own derision
every single day.

My left hand reaches for anything new;
my right hand clings to hope, to you.

I can't remember what it's like
to live without a care,
but I am not surprised-
life was never fair.

Mountain Rain

I am glad
these raindrops aren't bullets.

But fuck are they cold.

2 a.m. on a little stoop
shirtless, utterly
exhausted,
and I am glad
it's just phlegm
and cigarette smoke.

I'm coughing
up, not blood.

And though I won't be standing
too much longer,
I'm glad it was
no one
that took me down.

The Greedy Part

I want my chops licked
for the meals I prepare for you.

I want you to notice
how much effort I put
into decorating my house.
What do you think,
I did it for me to look at?

I want you
to sleep in my bed
without me
because it is my bed.

Frustrate

I don't want to remember,

yet much to my surprise

I don't want to forget.

I won't even write this down.

Cigarettes destroy your lungs

yet sadly leave your memory intact.

There are good days and

there are bad days.

Today is one of those.

She

You brought the first spring day,

and the sun has't set since I met you.

And while I would love you

to stay,

I just don't think I could let you.

You brought me home and showed me life,

and pointed up the road.

When cold wind blew you held me tight,

and both of us laughed as it snowed.

He, Himself

Unintentionally charming
and far too aware of it.
So much so
that
he couldn't be an ass if he tried.
But he can
if he doesn't.
So smooth he ends up silent
at his best, so silent
he can sneak up on himself.

So apathetic towards happiness
in general,
he can't put effort into his own.
Because he knows
he'll feel the same either way.
And he still doesn't know
what that, "the same," is.

He knows too many people
look alike, and he knows
no one here
looks at him the same as people did there,
there.
But he knows people like himself.
People that listen
overindulge
and forget.

Your Problem

You jeopardize your job

and all of your relationships,

you bitch

about your roommate

not having money

or food

or looking for a job.

And you sit back

and watch everything

that makes your life

possible

run away,

just run away.

Crystallize

If you go a week

without writing a poem,

they don't build up

or crystallize,

they don't get sweeter.

They go flat-

they fade.

And watch you do the same.

And it is just as easy

not to write a poem

as it is to write one.

What it is

Liberating,

that's what it is.

To not have to try-

to be unimpressive,

to just exist.

Watch ambiguously

and imagine.

Force other people

to assume,

to wonder.

Masturbate

and pretend to feel things;

get thing done.

It is liberating

to be isolated.

My Thumb

I was peeling shrimp for your dinner,

and one of them stabbed me

in the thumb.

And that really stings.

So I mutilated the thing

and let it sit on the counter

to think about what it had done.

Those big guys

with the long spike

on top of their heads,

they always forget

who holds the knife.