Saturday, November 26, 2011
Sunday, June 12, 2011
The easiest part is waking up first,
With my head on their chest, my knees curled up to their legs.
That is the only time I think I have ever believed in love,
On any man’s shoulder with
Some soft morning light filtering in
I always think, “I could stay here forever.”
I always kiss that shoulder, softly
Without looking and
Dig out up my shirt and underwear
Tuesday, August 18, 2009
Sunday, August 16, 2009
Saturday, August 1, 2009
which is the same orange but a different size,
still exhausted but with rounder edges,
silken cushions that I slide off of invariably
after a long night, or at the beginning of a terribly long day.
the buzzing of the cicadas is reminiscent
of the summer we spent drunkenly
glancing into the fish tank that we had dubbed
"the ci-queda strong hold"
impatiently waiting for the moment the bug would
shed it's skin
so we could snap it up for photographs and sculptures.
We could have used all those moments for something else!
All of the cicadas died,
exoskeleton and all.
Thursday, July 30, 2009
not the tragic destruction,
not the beautiful digression.
I was never the disaster you wanted of me.
I am nothing but the aching disappointment.
I imagine you seeing the piles of bottles.
the fridge full of half empty take out containers
from weeks ago.
liz is not gia.
liz is not the raging forest fire,
liz is the slow controlled burn.
I feel like the apex (or nadir, choose)
will never arrive.
The lowest point is never as low,
there is always lower.
And that's why.
You can not save me.
I do not need saving!
Not this time, not last time.
Liz is not Gia.