Look at me falling in love with fallible bodies.
Look at me performing emotional labor...

A Preamble to an Explanation of You

It was like I worked in a Popsicle factory
but had never tasted the color red.
I walked the dry tongue of the road
as crickets scritched

Sticky Fingers

Mick Jagger I want you to pry the top off this maple syrup for me while I flip the pancakes—I didn’t wipe it down before I closed it last & now I fear it’s sealed

poem in the morning

this farmer's tan is not going to go away
all by itself
but what can i do about it?
go to the beach?
take my shirt off at work?
that would not be very

After a Late Night Outcall (Creepy Enough to Care)

my feet are so warm
I shouldn't have worn
my felt boots
I didn't mean to be drunk
I'm a dull woman
these days
it's just
I

 to the right of my heart a button °
if you see the button press deeply into me

I am shining brilliantly on my way down the stairs

in 1984 I thought everything existed as light

in

again andy is crying.
all the days he is crying.

An Interview #1

Vibe Magazine: Why haven’t you shot yourself in the head?

Aaliyah: My mother sits in her padded recliner, stares through a row of Law & Order DVDs and thinks, "I

if I were an Amish girl,
I would leave
for Rumspringa...

Glissade, pas de bourrée. I stole a bottle of Cointreau from mother’s liquor cabinet

In the dream you are not a lamb on fire.

Suddenly I want to be the one to leave a party.
Maybe life imitates art after all.

Today
I was at McDonald’s
and there was this chunky,
high school-aged kid...

I know the scars of my grandfather do you. I know the guns in my pelvis do you...

later, an iguana slinked up the steps in a macho, prehistoric way...

You must imagine god as syrupy mist.

You imagine you’re a tipping point wrapped in a synthetic summer dress.

None of us have those cats who go
viral meowing Springsteen songs...

Night comes in a slow bloom of abandon.

Have you ever seen a rich person?
It's not like that movie about rich people–

Then there’s the Schnabel:
Some colors and Adieu...

This poem is about death and, to some extent, life.

Anyone who loves Tim loves him for the same reason.
He hit one home run. "Did you ever hit one?"
He'll ask, as the day begins to wash over his face
and he leans back to stare at the baseball

            after A.E. Stallings

That his fingernails are immaculate, shaped
into thin arches of moon. That he files them
in the locker room before games, between innings in the

Except for the first single-celled organism
preposterously long ago, firecracker snapped
from a vast nothing, the earth is mulch & rot.