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Arizona

Marie's hair is a parade
white catching up to pink
tumbling on brown.
Pulled back, the years of
squinting into windshields
are raked into her cheeks:
'14 a day is alright, if you gotta.'
Marie turns Arizona over
and around in her mouth.
'I'd've quit the circuit years ago
if it weren't for Arizona.'
All that coffee. That sky.
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Posted by

instagram selfie, plagiarized.

Is it me? 
Am I he? 
Is life slop? 
Is trash soup? 
Is soup life? 
Soup slop lief lop?
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Posted by

Galaxy Bar

thick tonic
thin wine
fists ricochet the table.
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Posted by

drunk poem #1

used loosely
get over it or
i did it so     so tired
siempre
siempre
cansada.
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Posted by

i forget that i love to be touched

Jorge flicks the top of my arm every now and then to make a point
Hilary nuzzles into my chest when we find each other in the big room.
Sarah writes to ask how my neck is doing, meets my vulnerability with care
touches through screens the ache of my body.
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Posted by

data model

o little metadata person
not the object, are you?
Just the stuff about the stuff
no Gutenberg bible, are you?
Just the record for the priceless
thing and not the thing. 
Don't we all feel that way.
Aren't we all more record
than relic. Or are we? Am I
just projecting? If I am
I'm just data modeling
onto you. "Are you modeling
this out on me right now?"
That's me in an argument
I'll have some day. 
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Posted by

#3

thank you for still texting me
thank you for waiting
i mean thank you for not being too mad that i am late again
i’m so icy hearted to this little warmth
able to drop it but not able to think that it’s good i guess
my coworkers are doing something that i can’t describe which is driving me crazy
obsessed with the vegan cafe and the bad comedy
i didn’t like n a n e t t e ? ?
but i love this silly podcast where a person is doing kind active listening
the plan is to not have a plan and also not have a plan that is anti the repetitive plan
just no plan
the plan is like what if i could solve one of these things
the formula is why why why and then pit two things against each other
and then realize i already did that
just constantly very mildly obsessed with where [the idea of kathleen hanna]
is popping up in the minds of whoever is smartest, what over the last ten years has mostly been replaced in my daily need to
space out with very niche twitter famous gay people
this is not really what i’m thinking about!
it’s really
actual ways that i might be bad!
future pain!
not really anything!
the bad plan!
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Posted by

poop

i love poop
poop makes everything possible
everybody poops
at summer camp
we pooped in groups
sitting next to friends
as it should be
i love a good communal poop
chatting and giggling
as each poop plops below
even the word poop
i love
laughing about poop
and talking about pooping
i love that too
i pooped next to my boyfriend
when i brought him to a wedding
and it was in that pooping moment
that i knew
he was a keeper
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Posted by
i want to write
but i don't have a pen
i want to write
but the screen hurts my eyes
i want to write
but i have to pee
i want to write
but i can't focus
i want to write
but i have no ideas
i want to write
but i'm hungry
i want to write
but i'd rather watch tv
i want to write
but it's time to go
i want to write
but i have more excuses
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Posted by

Professional development

My lizard brain on the defense
my clumsy tongue 
my crude crayon drawing

We are in a cold basement 
talking about race
it seems we collude 
to contain the conversation to a day 
here and there 
those of us in white bodies 
have gotten good at holding things off
turning blind eyes
quickly nodding, when necessary 

My thoughts are drawn back 
to myself
my lizard brain
my clumsy tongue
the muscle to pull them away and listen --
without my guilt ballooning up to block the way
or my defensiveness looming large --
the muscle is weak
unpracticed
like drawing with my left hand.

On butcher paper we are to draw
an early experience with race
my crayons don't capture 
my blazing cheeks
sitting in the backseat with Nina
as my dad grips the steering wheel
and barks don't say that.
I didn't want a brown mask
I said,
because brown is ugly.
She was younger than me,
but does she remember?
What would she have drawn with crayons?
So far my lizard brain
my clumsy tongue
haven't dared to ask.
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Posted by

Are You Mad at Me?

Just taking it and apologising isn't enough,
I say sorry in my sleep,
it's water off my back,
it is said and I shuffle on.

I could actually parse why someone's mad,
and say it's not really me,
or take it on the chin,
understand it,
and remember.

Anger is like anything else,
so who's irritated, really?
And will I stop,
of course but 
clear away your eggshells first,
tiptoeing is a
miserable infinite spiral,
a flawless trap.
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