Despair 101

Seek out the light
leaving your lover’s eyes. Seek the song
strummed from the remaining
fingers of a god, cursed and withering
in its quiet temple. Seek the solace
offered by a kingdom
of stone. Seek out a cure
for the many antidotes of loneliness. Seek out the perfect
bottle more potent than all the whirlwinds stirring
your chest with regret. Seek an ocean
that will deny you all your desires
of drowning. Seek out the absence
of memory: landscapes exempt from time, wine
sweeter than that fatal lie. Seek out your name
in the alphabet of forgotten faces.


Spot a stain: a trap,
oh those parts torn open
at the nape. Impart ire: aim
the sin at home. Spit
the ear. Hear harm, stare
then stir – his ripe heart
a nest of heat atop a train. Spite
the saint risen in resin. Spin then pine,
parse poems, host those horns
sent on a spine. Set hope
to emit another time:
Oh, Era of Haste:
snare this star, this prism- pith
its sore, sore arms so spent-

It’s impossible to be completely honest, completely happy; therefore slink and sink back into the warm familiarity of being without

Innocence died screaming ♪

Because I was reading Eliot again.
In a minute there is time    
For decisions and revisions which a minute will reverse.  

From The Comprehensive List of Lines Left Out:


I am from the refusals and misdirected musings of past loves. Burnt letters, poems too long, one photograph too many, notebooks filled with theorems and equations that flew further than their predicted trajectories.

in exchange for both my eyes. The continents went dancing
while we were out. Submarines were invented

We constructed ways to ease everything in – the world of the body built on knowable signs: blood smears lit with starry skies under the microscope, currant jelly stools, apple core lesions; bird’s beaks, footballs, ground glass lodged in your lungs, steeples reaching to the sky of your throat, stepladders rising from bowels – all answers hailed by the advent of radiation: a world bathed in black, white, and gray. The body’s topography mapped in entire by density and ingested dyes.

They said: Write. Make dying
beautiful. Someone else said: Stop.
As a reflex I let my fingers search the cold wrist
for a pulse, but felt only the pounding
of my own, feeble heart.

Revising some pieces. Here are some things I cut out, from various bits of text.



There is a place for me somewhere.
To evade death: tell the body to stop
living; last forever as stone.
Wait for a better time. Disregarding the absence
of stars as disaster, we drew them all down
a net so vast it could harness heaven.
Then say the words to come back,
to feel the air again: how breath blooms
from a pair of calcified lungs, all our lives
sweet static from a dying phonograph.
The songs told us how it would be,
lyrics eventually lulled into a language
only dust understood.
The house we lived in was never cleaned.
The windows were always closed.


Renga with Monch. In which we just line a yellow paper with lies.

What you’ve been waiting for –

The alluring anachronism split into pure atoms, an arrangement you can almost taste, the arsonist asking for absolution;

Belched out ballads badly resonating with bulls in china shops and besieged belladonnas, balustrades broken into bits by blue balls of light;

The chosen moment that spelled perfection and catastrophe, clicking the correct button a centisecond too late, clasping your clammy hands on hers, taking a careless chance;

The damned; demons draped in delight and Double Dutch ice cream donning dragon-shaped diamonds;

Elephants, eggplants, epiphanies evading re-entry into Eden;

In the far future finding the fault lines following a flock of flightless fates; feigning fascination and friendship in funerals; fucking and feeling fervently free; Furies fired up on fairy dust, felt-tip pens, and fireworks;

The giant that gobbled gold and in its gastrointestinal tract generated gods and gentlemen alike;

“Hi, hello, how, and who are you doing?” harked the heart attack hailing from happiness;

Once inside, she felt all of his intent: imminent, impeccable, as if invincible to her ills – inviting;

“Just joking” jested the juvenile juggernaut;

Kicking the knickknack into the Kraken’s kitchen, kneading kings kindly, keeling for kisses and kills;

The lover lying listlessly listening to limericks and lies, licking her lips;

Midway, he made the moon melt mint and mellow, Mercury moping a mile off, mesoderm mistaking marrow for more; maimed and well-meant, maelstrom or minotaur- make your mind up, mother;

Never needing nobody; no names necessary;

Onwards: the only way out;

Pretenses paltry and promising; put it in Promises and Pink; procure these precious perversions, pretty please?

Quietly the quack doctor quickened; qualms, quills, and questions all quarelling;

Resisting respite and reason, she rose and reached for the risk ringed on his ribs

Strung-up strawberries straining for something to see; starlight secured inside sea-stained bottles; seeds speaking of Soon and Somehow;

The taste of trouble; those terrible tricks they trust;

Underwater, they undertook what was undue, unsaid;

“Very well,” voiced the violet violin vying for velvet violence; vicious vapors in vials; valkyries and vanishing points;

Wondering how to wander; waking wayward wights and wishing wells;

XXX seemed to express xenophobia; the sighing xylophone shrouded in xenon;

When yielding meant Yes, your yearning like a yawn or a yellow ball of yarn;

Zeal in a zoo.

When I am hungry and procrastinating, I curl into a useless pile of catalogs & the alphabet. Then I get exhausted & lie down. Real work only gets done some good 2 hours later when I am Super Charged on sugar. *rolls away*