Nov. 29

It’s only a third of the way to the

Creamery.

And a fifth of the way to the church

But when I stopped to check on the dead raccoon

It was already half lit so I let it be.

It’s paws, dim and sharp

Stretched towards the sole of my shoe as if to

Yell

‘Hey, asshole

…give me that grilled cheese and suck my diiiiiiickkk.’

I kicked it away and it rolled to one side before coming back to it’s original position. Swollen with dead gas and probably the neighbors tampons and soda cans,

I think I heard it burp.

the plight of an urban baby

We’d really rather be in a field of phosphorescent jellyfish, dancing.
Well, I’d dance, and you’d stand with the rest of the striped tiger fish, watch and chaperone.
If you held my hand in a field I think you could hold your whiskey.
For an archetype you’re quite un-spontaneous
For a first love you’re quite unforgiving
For a weakened storm, you don’t much enjoy the squalor of a men’s only fist fight

Square pegs, or whatever.

There are futon fights where we make each other jealous
or I guess we try and jealous the other person,
In a pallid way
(If a way can be ‘pallid’ this is the way we would exist, I suppose)

There are times where we are trembling through imagined stars and hypotheticals
Talking and never caring.

For a mistake, I’m pretty present
For an enemy you’re pretty…existent.
For a cobwebbed couple we’re pretty intertwined.
For a twinkled clockman, you’re…

Fuck.

I feebled us.
Compromising our anonymity and indifference and bright lightbulb thoughts that an elementary school teacher wouldn’t scratch for.

I storaged an amount of myself on the west coast
I forgot about the part buried with the gravel glitter and missing socks

I squirmed once with pleasure and imagination and infinity but I’m not sure it was worth the scrapes.

I storaged an amount of ourselves once in a paper towel that folded into fourths.

I storaged an amount of you once in pillowcase (or maybe it was a coin purse), I think. Right?

Am I here-

Let me address the corner of the room, for never changing, like a saltine cracker with peanut butter.

squawk

I.

I am an earth child beauty

a genderless sack of potatoes

a cow lace carnival

I am a caterpillar’s scale on the tongue of a wealthy man who told me

“I’d like to run my

Callous,

beer sticky

fingers along the

zipper of your scalp”

II.

I will go to a temple’s solid mountain cave

And ask a shoeless welder

About his sky high shoestrings as he dances towards his cobblestone death

…

I was soaking in a cathedral when I heard the lullaby of

Poverty heels and labor palms.

I was soaking in bus 137 when I saw seat 22 plucking harp strings from some memory of a candid matrimony.

I whined for her to
Let me see
So I didn’t have to think about
Your pipe cleaner fingers

I was soaking in a patio staring up at
Favela fringe and lace on tambourine mountaintops
Listening to full tourist pockets and air-conditioned transit sluts.

I sat on the corner screaming who needs water when I have rain

Why doesn’t anybody care that I once got an A on a science paper I wrote in the 7th grade

Why can’t we all just

Fuck.

Big world
Make a peace corp promise one more time, gringo,
I’m still here

In a place where women go without

When

You placed an ornate ring around my MediumDeepWarmSunBeige™

finger

***Determine Your Skin Tone

First, you want to determine your skin tone. It’s the natural color of your complexion that falls into a range from fair to deep. There are seven possible tones: 1. fair 2. fair light 3. light 4. light medium 5. medium 6. medium deep 7. deep To determine yours, focus on the area of your face near the jaw line and not the cheek because the latter tends to be a bit more pigmented and less reflective of your true tone.

III.

I am an industrial grade timetable

I am a samba heart child

I am a percussionists tightened drum groin

I am a pixelated image,

glitching beneath the sheets

I am dripping in a gold fertility necklace

I am present like a floral arrangement

on an anthill

IV.

We can all cry in a green bathtub and hold each others tears and
When
The last one falls
We'll peel back
And forth
Until two of us can

Celebrate our sin and roll in gluttony and glitter

And eavesdrop on magic

In a sanguine lip stained cello from a gutter or an atlas.

And sink into the saturated earth.

I see you sequined cleric, calling my mom,

Quit it.

Don’t crowd me while I’m chewing on atmosphere.

I see you staring at my messy sandman feet

Wondering if I could ever be

Pliable, like a clay child.

But

I’m a nymph bitch.

And I can take my backpack and run away

I’m not your

muse

Or your chinadoll.

Your

Motherofmychildren

Or your exoticlatina (maybe)-isthatwhatyouare(baby)?

I’m a flighty freak bitch.

And you can all join me in my cerebral palace if you’d like.

ten months is too long

mudfeet covered in shells. 

swapped shoulders and a tidy kitchen.

if I press my palms together hard enough I can remember my entire childhood.

Today I thought of my childhood for 45 minutes

and I fell into a pile of leaves, collected by me. 

I collected a thousand leaves. 

any day

could be today.

any day

could be a fire pit.

any day

could walk me through the seasons and tidy my kitchen.

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Pouring itself down and plunging.

Free falling,

the hair from an embarrassing

Nipple

Or chin

Grazes a sticky spot of something

Cradled with indifference and cast on at a particularly gray second

Padded with impunity and shade of a thousand

Crates of oranges

Blossoming.

Flowers can’t know their own genus,

Species.

Now it’s taco night

“Have you ever seen mayonnaise in a bucket?”

Clapping like a dumb seal, gawking and wading.

“…like an entire gallon of mayonnaise for sale somewhere…”

Caked with resin,

Stacked in spines of quirky looking

Trinkets and

Spindly other somethings

Still wading

Still dancing

I sweep.