Tuesday, August 18, 2009

boots rain and drinking.

The sky was seismic
cracked open pouring
rolling thunder and electric current
the pavement cool black glass
our boots stomping torrents
on the way to the bar,
the lights drawn out
beneath our feet.

Sunday, August 16, 2009

in order to fall in love again,
you must unlearn all of your old habits.
You must take back the rituals and
stop listening to your ex lover's favorite music.

it's not as easy as it looks,
trying not to make the same mistakes.

Saturday, August 1, 2009


sitting on a new future couch,
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

liz isn't gia.

liz isn't gia.
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,
any more.
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.

Tuesday, June 23, 2009

sine qua non

i jumped aboard your deadlock gaze
and i pushed you with one finger,
to the ground.
i said all the things I've never said,
i said all the most important tiny things:
all the pieces that make up
everything I've ever felt.
it feels as though we have been sorting for decades and
the file folders sit finally,
labeled neatly on our laps
anticipating our next move.
I jumped aboard your deadlock gaze
and I'm digging in my heels this time,
not letting it get away
not letting it wander.
you said,
give me three days.
these lapses are unintentional and
I'm not holding anything against you
because we are both the person
the other will be forgiving forever
in a world full of unforgivables
full of forgettables.

Sunday, June 21, 2009

Shark Tank.

he traced a heart with his finger on my chest 
and drew a line from the heart down my arm
like a target for your air pistol.
your indifference took aim and fired.
There are too many unanswered what-ifs
and raw nerves dangling for me to see you anymore.
I sit here wracked with anxiety and running out of oxygen
at the bottom of a shark tank filled with sharks we trained together.
The quiet swooshes of my heart and their tails in unison have become
a dull ache reminder of what could have been.

Sunday, February 15, 2009


I've hit that wall that I'm fucked wall.
I've known for a long time that I'm making this choice to live this life
and that it has its' instantaneous consequences lurking in the background. That one 5 minute interval that changes it all.
And so here I am in that time warp wondering if it's worth it to hold onto it all, or should I just give up?
There is no hidden second option this time, no crazy rescue plan.
It's either in or out.

I've been trying to live directly, with some sort of direct consequence... And thus far I have out run everything.
When I left you said, "the house has calmed down, the air is not crackling. The psychic energy has released." After a while I ran into you in a bar and you said, eyes down "They turned your room into a living room. They painted over everything."

Everyone talks to me like the places I've been are graveyards.

And I'm trying to learn how to be unobtrusive and am traveling by foot backwards in time, checking on the status of the bridges, to see which have fallen and which have burned. To see where it is possible to get from here to there.

cell phone memos pt. 1

pushed  away on the outside always
the outside of my own doing the way out gone
he said leap and I interpreted it as go away but maybe it was
just wait like, take your time like, find out what this is first.
Maybe I'm so far away from real life from this idea
that I wanted from the people that love me that any excuse
for pain for that shot of reality for anything really
I will go flying now and I look around with the wind in my ears 
sweet body suspended in disbelief or time wondering
how long 'til I hit the ground?

Tuesday, February 3, 2009


Put on PJ Harvey and sang along silently for 3 songs while my head was out the window, thinking that I'll never crash because I'm driving this car with my mind and my mind creates all of this around me, this whole world and I move like a shock wave, like rings around me like fingers reaching out and because all of this is me I am able to subconsciously anticipate What Happens Next. I will always be a beat ahead. And anyway, even if that weren't true and I did get into an accident it doesn't matter because I can fly. And I watched myself fly up over the blinders on the concrete barrier of the highway, I watched myself lift over that and then my mind went blank. I saw tail lights and heard silence. What?
Wondering if my ears had shut off. iPod says "PJ Harvey - triangle - double bar - triangle - double bar" and then back to triangle. Sound comes suddenly, exactly synched with track in brain. Exactly.

Monday, January 26, 2009


I played my favorite music through your earphones to lure you
to share with you the dull droning,
to show you the potential for clip.
I made you come to me,
and you did: repeatedly.
You lay your sick mouth against mine
and the sad slow moments passed between us 
like two tug boats in an empty harbor,
drifting away.
In waiting I tormented myself constantly,
like a deep pond stirs in a storm
churning, thrashing
stretching out luridly
lapping at my own shores
waiting for you as if
you were the lightning strike.
and you were.
You slashed into me deeply, splitting the curtain
and entering
silently, stealthily
crashing to the core.
Illuminating the insides thoroughly
I grasped desperately at the electricity
as it passed between us
and then you were gone again
with my surface still quivering
and all the fish dead.

Saturday, January 10, 2009

take it all back

your red mouth a round circle against my ear
whispering your in-between things during the
dark times
the make believe times.
I always knew the great truth of us,
that we were listening in clip that
it couldn't sustain
but I pushed further.
You asked me to Leap!
and I resisted,
but there is no great sadness,
there are no lessons to be had here.
life is a fragile ever changing arrangement
and you have become a quiet memory
that lurks in misplaced polaroids and
voicemails that were never deleted.