Pencil Icon

Fragment 5.31.13

We never learned how
To spell forgiveness with
Anything more than stolen pens,
On anything more than late-night-diner napkins.

Only thing we ever practiced were
“fuck you’s,”
“fuck me harder’s,”
all of the ways
We’d McGuyver
Band-aids over our
broken parts.

We tried to
Shatter each other
into pieces that would
finish puzzles of paintings
we lost the boxes for.

Pencil Icon

"Comin for to Carry Me Home" (Freewrite - 3.5.13)

Some nights she was

a double-take-smile

an affirmation by soft-eyes and fluttering lashes

that hobbled like me wasn’t quite sure what to call

a proof that fit for photographs was possible

for a misprint puzzle piece that never made it to the box

a post-modern sculptor able to see art in me;

I would have lived in her hands.

Other nights she was

a swift machete swung


swung chariot,

swung like her father taught her,

like comes natural to her,

like she swung all her life,

good follow through;

the kind of sweeping shot to legs

that reminds you of your damaged parts and

all the things you’ve learned to walk through

your wobbling knees; atrophies you had

forgotten were ever not a part of you

that turns prosthesis into

paper mache and

reminds you that before your

feet found this callous

that the coals used to feel hot

I never

go to sleep


Pencil Icon


undressed, or maybe
sun dressed; set
herself, her source, her fire
down past horizon
became moonlit
in a dark room
above a sea of quilted
wing fragments

floated up towards the ceiling
like feathers were never
necessary ingredients for
her fly, says she
doesn’t have a twin, but
I listened as

became her own
reflection, watched
her voice become
an echo of a collision, between
bodies, between airborne and landlocked,
reverberations of beautiful crash landings
sing out into this space like
time signatures on love ballads
I hope become standards
I would love to hear my
children one day mimic
her cadance

tastes like earth,
carbon and sulfur and sediment
like sky
pushed Seraphim
I understand why they
gathered up remnants
of her, reverent
and named the drug
angel dust