THE CAKE IS A LIE

didn’t cry at the funeral
didn’t cry when the meteor hit & wiped out my beloved Brontosaurus
didn’t cry when the ash of New York shrouded the half-mast flags
like the bandanas Syrians wrap around their mouths to celebrate
their own blood-spattered independence
didn’t cry when I got my period
when I remembered the first time I kissed a guy
 he called me flat chested
 told everyone my braces tasted like rotten apples
& I flopped my tongue on his like a slug
the first time he wheezed like asthma
& his skin turned yellow
& we knew it was over
or I remembered Pepper’s death
stiff, black, glaucoma, all out of barks
                              (I’m all in & right back out again)
didn’t sob when I found out that molestation runs in families
or that cats hate toasters in water
or that I fucking hate jelly but I ordered the special, bit in
& it stained my Keds  
or that God hates most women
& so do most men
didn’t cry when I got my first or seventieth rejection letter
didn’t make a sound when I saw the faceless ball of energy float across the kitchen
& try to rip my tongue out when I opened my mouth &
breathed for the first time since August
what a great imagination she has!

I want to rip my hair out
dance on a bed of nails while five thousand demons
shoot acid charged needles into my spinal cord
nail my hands to hot coals
cut off my eyelids
feed me tubs full of sleeping pills
eat spoonfuls of rainbows in front of me
while telling me I’ll never be an astronaut
licking the purple off their fingers to tacitly remark
you’re too scared of heights!

let go & let God they said
but I also heard
God hates vaginas & crybabies & two’s gotta be bad
 wound so tightly in a barrel of armor
every time I tremble I retreat to a seventy foot snow castle
with a prince spoon feeding me rainbows
so high in that balcony
light as our plans & lit with vivid conceptions
that I pulled right out of my head
I walked right into the sidewalk
stubbed my toe & balled my stoic little eyeballs out
 for five fucking hours
plainly inconsolable
she’s so brilliantly theatrical!

racing the streets with my hand on my chest
the persistent why bleating from my histrionic hissy fit lips
hair disheveled & inexplicably soaked in sweat
dots of black tar covering my freckles
I taste snot & beads of total humiliation
a look on my face like I was responsible
for every starving orphan in Darfur
every crushed mantis
every prehistoric fossil
every fried brain cell in his tossed out head
I had written My Brother is Dead in the back of a notebook
 that I never read or glanced at  again
I stood tall in the wake
pigeons perched on my biceps
she’s as still as deep waters!

today I was a reckless witch who just flew off the handle
who just stood at the barrier  in bloody coral platforms
like an oppositional two year old who can’t find Waldo
in a dress on a street in the spring in a city
 in a bruised way that makes me look so much like you
in your swimming trunks when you hit your forehead on the edge of the ladder
& it hit me harder than that slab of concrete
a car backfires in the distance & so does every fucking other thing
that person-hating God winks  & it feels like rain on a little fucking parade
so this is the climate of never gonna happen & it seems
                                     (it’s hot & muggy & full of gray)
like I’ve been this way forever

she is having the best day ever!

all things want to float.

I followed you home like a baby Russian stray
it rained & we met under the awning
awkward apologies & swollen speech
you look like a dead relative
I can’t smell the mold
you smell like baby powder & manufactured lilac spritz
I’m losing it

your scars are from concrete shooting galleries
mine are from dried out nights on a carpet of a place that seems
too brutal to face so I keep waiting
for next Father’s Day
I’d have more but he finally took the whole drawer away
May snow brings June despondency
you’re virile
I’m viperous
let’s put our V’s together & make great peace
great distance from a place
that is white in summer
a farm in Santa Fe
full of feral cats that follow me from place to place
like baby Russian strays
back to your place to watch each other’s tics
& discover how much we know about how to chase
how to pause
how to taste the lingering question in the air
who are you & how did you get here
how to pretend to be asleep
when I should be leaving

tell me about the time
you brought a lover home
& never said a nice thing
I’m digging this
& burying the hatchet in the snow-capped den
that surrounds us like a cage
yield to total elation
& jump on top of me
all dimming things want to grow in the detritus

 of someone else’s spring.

when we had the best day ever & did nothing to stop it.

I used to be a vacant room but now I’m full of
suspect
the cloying puffs of air
near my ear saying
come here
anything I ever used in my life with you
I have no right to use now
so you can donate all my cooking pots
& pointy shoes
surfeit with bursting lust
if I was any lighter
you could break me
with my own earplugs
drowning out the sounds that say
(this is my favorite moment)

enough

I smile at strange women with short hair 
they lack artifice & the caffeine is doing it now
 one of them leans close & says
 I have cancer
I lose the look but hold the door

 I call you about the book but you never answer
I’m virescent when it comes to this stuff
a blade of grass between your teeth while you lounge on the lawn
of another peruser’s yard
 I’ve seen you answer before 
my parents got a new number & I don’t know it anymore 
& more than the space between us when we nap
the absent breath on my neck
drying cacti on the windowsill
that are watered more than this
that simple fact just breaks my heart

rapacious planet full of  breeding wasps
& sharp inhales
I want to finish on your face
but I’m playing more demure these days
so I let you finish on the sheets
I wish I had more words for” terrorize”
another versifier grunting in the dark
picking at her stitches
& taking guesses at the Rorschach blotch
that spreads across her skirt
quickly like a desert cobra strikes
                                     I started using a tape recorder, the typing
                                                with all the in & out
                                                    like your gruff kiss & eyes that smear
                                                       my attempts at suggestive staring
                                                                       back in my face
                                                        just excessive & unbearable
                                                         & some part of my body always
                                                          takes it like a torch storming the bastion

                                                          
my brain is interrupted
I thought Russia was only full of atheists, vodka, & dead economics 
but they got bombs & vengeful gods too
I wish I could have seen em
 they’ve got pressure cookers & guns
I have leftover pressure cooked soup
& a big whopping hole of a placemat for two
you look voracious & eager & sad about the way I kiss
 they’ve got warped ideas of fun & they’ve got a lot of explaining to do
just like you
I’ve got virulence but I prefer to soak in the warm rays by the pond
so I must be the snake
& you must be the 
(sun)

bait

now lets burn em to death!
I will burn our story in my eyelids & light little miss cancer’s cigarette with em
 her eyes are hazel too
Islam is burning some serious bridges
you are burning women with your genuine disinterest
I am fingering this girl in a bathroom 
picturing her lips on your ear saying 
wait
you always call me back when I’m busy
lapping up someone else’s unfinished business
you & I are a collapsing splintered overpass
the suspense won’t hold it
the iron is rusty & pokes out like my face from your bushes
we should abandon it like all great ideas gone haywire
grab some dynamite
good god almighty
hijack a bulldozer
let’s (run!) shut this thing down
but I still prefer escape
I like hiding & indecent rhyme
climbing the rope of a long blond buxom princess’ hair 
with a natural grimace & time to spare
all the way to the bottom
I prefer to see by torch light & a slow burning ogre
horseback & henchman & a penchant for exaggeration
bridges on fire just don’t cut the sky live miniature devils
look back but don’t stare
grab your fork & storm the castle
color the moat with screaming townspeople
let’s paint the city’s skyline with each other’s last lines

it just seems more classic.

it’s like learning the way someone kisses.

my positive valence balances our collective grief
 what if no one’s the killer & no ones the martyr?
what if we wrapped our heads in grey veils when we shuffled down the aisle?
what if no one’s wrong ?

it’s like a word problem in math.

he’s an egoist with a  small penis
& he licked my face sometimes
that’s when I left
I thought about screwing the entire community
to get them all off my back
but the way you touch me
feels like a breathing cell

it’s like a Siamese set of Siamese kittens.

& we used to talk about my feelings a lot
but I could tell it bothered him
when I brought up the fear of pedophilia
but you can’t tell some of them are seventeen
not the way they move when they run

it’s like a sale on day old bread.

he always said interesting
after everything I said
& I was a loony tune caught in the moon
pretending to love his vituperative stature
but really I just thought of those young men
arms wrapped around me like three trillion octopi
foaming at the head

it’s like free Slurpee day in the desert.

& the more I remember
the more the whole thing seemed like a rough draft
a Pahlaniuk with less flaming adjectives
less interesting
too young to be classic
too benign to be Steinbeck
an unreadable script
& I just kept waiting for the twist
the prize behind Door Number Three
that turned out to be a supernatural force that drove me
to madness
a science fiction
but less King, not Bradbury
more contrived
silence is astounding
& I filled it with talking spaces
unfinished business

it’s like this.

so I bought this for you
this was the most sustainable one
according to the internet
& the guy helping me
it’s called a Peace Lily
not as dispensable as a tulip
or the offensive rose
that women watch wilt with painted indifference
waiting for a drunk so dotted with colorful language
hot & snorting flagrance like a bull gone rogue
committing suicide in the audience
liquid pride parade
red streaming float of snarling insolence
over there
it seemed like the most appropriate offering I could make
it’s supposed to clear the air  
& I’m sorry for everything
 

you don’t believe in  evenhandedness
the world is a pocketknife
we wear around our necks
fruit pickers hanging from barbed wire
& the Eastern Bloc’s progressive resistance
to resilience &  progressive recovery
all the justice we should have
thwarted in our own self-preservation
 you took a number from immigrants
when I asked if that bumbling misstep was an apology
or if you had just seen something from your peripheral
that looked like a floating tailfeather
when I thought you were studying your omelet
& you had a poignant sparkle in your eye
you tightened your boot straps & turned right back
to something else

 I’m the fairest thing that ever happened to you
 I turned out to be a rose
not the farmer’s fence
that could choke those words out
 a compostable napkin on your lap
catching drool & pockets of prose
just waiting for my own handkerchief
to wipe the corners of my darling mouth
& a pen to write it (snarling) down

I’ll take this now

he never remembers not to bring lilies into the house
that’s the one flower that kills
all the cats
& on top of everything

 he took my trash can with him when he left.

I was giving her a shower
I’m  there for two hours to help with personal care
after towel drying her before they put on the hemorrhoid cream
I handed her a comb
& began  rubbing lotion on her legs
they were as smooth as a child’s
I said you must have taken good care of yourself

I enjoyed rubbing them
I imagined  years of tall glasses of water
running through her veins
electrifying her cells
tightening the elastic gaps that so many of us have
crackers with avocado instead of Nutella
early retirement on fluffy pillows
watching the dawn cut the sky
flossing
filing nails
she was just so full of tranquility
days worth spending
assets
responsible parables
a mother who taught her how to bake bread
crack eggs & iron hems
  she contemplated & said:

 I like your dark eyes.

pacing the harbor with a flask
& a plan to really “do it this time”
a hoard of worker bees
who show me what their insides look like
sleepy evenings that end in the bottom
of everyone
mislaid plays written in spilled fingerpaint
sprinkles of tobacco on the seat
thirsty kidneys
a mother who taught me how to cower
at words
my eyelashes hurt
my legs feel like sequoias

I am just so full of nights.

it’s like learning the way someone kisses.

my positive valence balances our grief
 what if no one’s the killer & no ones the martyr?
what if we wore gray better?
what if no one’s wrong ?

it’s like a word problem in math.

he’s an egoist with a  small penis
& he licked my face sometimes
that’s when I left
I thought about screwing the entire community
to get them all off my back
but the way you touch me
feels like a breathing cell

it’s like a Siamese set of Siamese kittens.

& we used to talk about my feelings a lot
but I could tell it bothered him
when I brought up the fear of pedophilia
but you can’t tell some of them are seventeen
not the way they move when they run

it’s like a sale on day old bread.

he always said interesting
after everything I said
& I was a loony tune caught in the moon
pretending to love his vituperative stature
but really I just thought of those young men
arms wrapped around me like three trillion octopi
foaming at the head

it’s like free Slurpee day in the desert.

& the more I remember
the more the whole thing seemed like a rough draft
of a Palahniuk novel that would never get him started
had it been the first one
we were inhabitable
an unreadable script
& I just kept waiting for the twist
the prize behind Door Number Three
that turned out to be a supernatural force that drove me
to madness
silence is astounding
& I filled it with unfinished business

it’s like this.

stick my stiletto in your eyeball
 watch your brains splash on my ornamented ankle
the guts & the glory
beg like you used to own me
& I got away

                                              & this is the story of what happened.

denizen of swamps & lush living necropolises
 my spirit animal is a jungle
chimp fights where cannibalism is the equivalent
to the stick up kid’s pointer finger in pocket
 a red crab spider at the bottom of a pitcher plant
devouring fly corpses
 a lion’s tongue poking through the trees
 fungi infiltrating whole colonies of beetles
little mushrooms bursting from their adamantine skin
ants that run you over
& take what they need
bee stings that prick so hard
they kill
wasps at your heels
reminding you flying things have to land
(I’m just having trouble breathing)
crocodile tears that feel like jaws
 a stampede  of any kind
vengeful elephants getting their swagger
 & their ivory
 back
palms that cut your calves  like the machete in  your hand
chopping down blades of grass
to get to it all
orchids disguised as diamonds & gem mines full of dynamite
waiting to eat the canary with a bit of
 Kablam!
lurking hyenas in the bush
of  a better huntress’ attack
malaria that turns your stomach over on itself
& forces you to shit it back out
the things we can’t name
yellow eyes & a presence that splits
the silver lined night in half
like a coconut on a rock

the rainforest was tranquil
potent but placid
fantastic microcosm
smelled like pollen, mud & welcome habitation
it didn’t shake, it stood tall
luscious, vibrant, moving thing
virescent floors, zaffre skies
dotted with caws & swooping petals
 a sudden stillness that sweeps
the spaces unoccupied with noise

                                              man landed on the moon
                                             & he had some ideas
                                      about to how move like a green ghost
                                                    through the flowers

you can shake your fist at any seething coast
but her scorn remains unscathed
 I am on the edge of the shore
picking at dead logs for termites with the baboons
watching the vultures pick at a beached porpoise
the water is red, saline & silent
the ships form ripples of discord
waves that shouldn’t be there
hermit crabs scatter
 the conch shells stand proud as a gate
salt barriers light the way
white foamy flags
the tide is weeping
& the air has a flightless weight to it
we are erect & pulsating
wading to greet with our fingers crossed near our tailbone
that evolution demanded we tuck between our legs
we are smiling without showing any teeth
we are cool & cross & irrelevant
we are waiting
you are visiting with metallic crosses swinging around your throat
 as a testament to your reverence
you are waiting to decimate & paint everything grey
apes know how to grin
I’ve got my best shoes on

                                                          & we are gonna paint those t’s red.

stick my stiletto in your eyeball
 watch your brains splash my ankle
the guts & the glory
beg like you used to own me
& it means

denizen of swamps & lush living necropolises
 my spirit animal is a jungle
chimp fights where cannibalism is the equivalent
of the stick up kids pointer finger in pocket
 a red crab spider at the bottom of a pitcher plant
devouring fly corpses
 fungi infiltrating whole colonies of beetles
ants that run you over
& take what they need
bee stings
that prick so hard
they kill
wasps at your heels
reminding you flying things have to land
(I’m just having trouble breathing)
crocodile tears that feel like jaws
& a stampede
of any kind
vengeful elephants
getting their ivory back
palms that cut your calves
like the machete in  your hand
orchids disguised as diamonds
& gem mines full of dynamite
waiting to eat the canary
with a bit of a Kablam!
lurking hyenas in the bush
of  a better huntress’ attack
malaria that turns your stomach over on itself
& forces you to shit it back out
the things we can’t name
yellow eyes & a presence that cuts
the night in half

the rainforest was tranquil
potent but placid
fantastic microcosm
smelled like pollen
mud & welcome habitation
it didn’t shake
it stood tall
luscious, vibrant, moving thing
virescent days, black nights
dotted with caws & swooping petals

& then man got involved

you can shake your fist at any seething coast
but her scorn remains unscathed
 I am on the edge of shore
picking at dead logs for termites
 with the baboons
watching the vultures pick at a beached porpoise
the water is red, saline & silent
watching the ships form ripples of discord
waves that shouldn’t be there
hermit crabs scatter
& the conch shells stand proud as a gate
salt barriers
& the air has a flightless weight to it

& we are waiting.

a wail that could wake buried bones.

I’m a mine that could go off without warning
if provoked
but you just taste the salt from the sunflower seeds
 & sadness that drips slowly onto the carpet
like a hand over my lips whimper
when it should have been a dusty black cloud
swallowing the shrill air
but nothing comes out

I just taste your mouth in my ear
planting ideas that smell like commas
brief gaps in our history that make up the time
lets fall madly in love with each other
& visit every country on the planet
watch the mushroom cloud from Bali
we know what happens
we don’t need to be here
 sometimes you just forget how people sound
what a parentheses means
(let’s wait another century)
 everyone is so drunk
a million ellipsis in the air
               just hanging on
             just hanging there
             standing still

& I’m caught in the middle
of two periods
so no one moves

we lurk past the gutter brawls
hand in hand
the coast is clear for fireworks
 up in our bedroom after the war
we got out alive this time
but I’ve been borrowing a God
that isn’t mine
so when will mercy come
 take me back & force me down the drain
take the path of least resistance
which means I kneel with cheap incense
& notions of a narcissistic ruler
that stares at a mirror longer than most
caught in an exclamation mark
& he’s coming around


I shift my posture
& I’m just waiting
for it to come out
where everything stops
joy that jolts the home
you spoon me like a semi-colon
say don’t go
& I wait
for the finish
& it stays between us

& nothing comes out.

boys who are dinosaurs

boys who lick almond butter off my wrists
without biting
boys who take risks
boys who say please
boys who make their own origami flowers that last a lifetime
            or at least a few minutes after leaving me
             covered in droplets of their depletion
 boys who order their Indian dairy-free
 boys who like walking the scenic route
for days
boys with blisters & an idea of how not to get there
boys who stomp dandelions like they’re baby t rexes
born that moment
boys that pause when doubtful
        a whole recession long
 boys who talk like a dusty thesaurus
boys who take shelter from the storm in libraries
& others’ crooned words
boys who waste whole days in illustrious sagas
& stolen looks

 boys who are books

 boys who do pull ups
boys who wear the world
the way I wear my hair
a loose fitting mess of a thing
that doesn’t need to be managed right now
 boys that chase things
boys that stop
boys who cry in churches
boys who hold doors & inquisitive gazes
 boys who use napkins in their lap
 (& us too)
 boys who think less than I do
but they get it faster
boys who get it
boys who don’t
boys who lie to spare feelings
boys who lie
to hurt
boys who write poetry
boys who memorize lines
boys who know when to use them

boys who are cats

boys who know the bus schedule
boys who speak up for dogs
 boys who speak up in auditoriums
 boys who like girls who cut their own hair
to the nape of their neck
& they don’t whine
boys who pummel most everything they touch with a soft, blue palm
boys who suck necks without drawing blood
  boys who eat watermelon
                    & me
 the same way
boys that howl a little bit inside
boys with guts & sentimental touches
 boys who call their mothers
on days that aren’t holidays
boys who leave voicemails
 boys who write letters
boy who climb jungle gyms
in an effort to see how far
we could jump
had we the courage

boys who are caterpillars

boys who follow me home
boys who take no for an answer
boys hidden in sweaters
& glasses
boys with your eyes
& my tongue
& our time
spent in an Egyptian cotton coffin
laughing like today was the first day on Earth

 boys
boys
           boys
& their boys
          

boys who look at me.

boys who are me
shaped like gloom
shaped like us
taking a shot at
your spirit
you are
so small
& shaking
girls who are grinning like mad
stoic & pacing
teeth
wiry fingers
that clasp
at boys who are
wide eyed, wet
& wondering
wandering the day
they are
lost rabbits
we are here
to catch them
& they are

boys who are doomed.

little bit of feral tines contained in a domestic snigger
one with a proclivity for small talk
one with dead silence like a scream cut off
in the middle of the dark
so ruptured & lost in that echo
it hurts just to stand in the place where it once
was found
some places just shouldn’t be inhabited
& your throat  clogged with overlooked vowels
is one of them

strong legs, taut back
from climbing jabs you take at me
 chasing balls & tail into a  new bed of nails
scratching at your chest to let the backstreets know what I own
 I’m full of bargains
one dollar books & yesterday’s makeup
 hair knotted with century old lesions & previous engagements
 chokeholds so tight I try wearing you like a loose fitting garment
some relief like aspirin
or a hard day’s night
alleys love violence
so that never works
 I can smell you everywhere

I come over wearing everything I own
so it takes forever to get to the bottom of things
& you take forever to say
anything
we take our time licking at the scratches
 the wounds from the boulevards stay wide open
like our suspicions
a flood when teeth are involved
& we drown in each other’s solipsist phrases
you taste a tad like probity
ruined
but I can’t place if it’s the other ones doing it
or if it’s me

the last one smelled like fever & dead roses
but you smell like
fresh scabs & cologne
& I can’t decide
(but I’ll stay in tonight)
but I think you’re a rabbit
who got lost in a cardboard box
shaped like shelter
one giant food bowl
in someone’s back yard
& here I come
tail wagging
like a dog got a bone
but I’m shaped like a shivering kitten
wet & starved for some wounded mole
& she can’t remember

which way is home.

there’s this girl I killed.

dancing in black knickers
the hallway closing in on her inches
from her bare breasts
that have been touched so many times
with bare matches
virescent mass growing from her ribs
toxic moss that’s threatens the whole garden
when she hopes
her eyes like snow
like bleeding ducklings
when she throws
 dangling from her tonsils
like the moon drives men to madness
when she disrobes
like the lunar eclipse rips death from her insides
when she sings
&  stings with a ferocious sadness
when she should have grown tulips shaped like daughters
she cuts like a god
 on fire
begging to be touched with bare hands
one last time

each time she smiles
gnashing teeth & dancing
 twirls in that place
& her cervix is a bleak garden
poisoned by words
I never say
she pours it out
 like spring blizzards
when she cries
like a baby’s first gasp
she goes
a hole in her belly with the wind whistling through
alone & all sorts of wrong
I am with her & all sorts of gone
all sorts of turbulence in that space
she licks her lips
                      we are detached from the apple tree
                       we are fail safe
& states
sobriety taught me how to slink to fit
 into the crawlspaces of depravity
& I am on the brink
of fitting inside those cavities

there’s this girl I killed
the blossoms are stained with black snow
everyone is celebrating a resurrection of water
she’s thirsty
you’re too small for that basin
she’s sunk
evaporated & coming back to box
she’s raining like God
crying for more Sisyphean sacrifice
a storm of a kind that wears the equator
how she bore the world on her spine
there’s a crack in the world tonight

& I have opened it.