insomnia 4

my eyes spiderweb red. i rub them raw with my knuckles. the tv is too loud but not loud enough to drown out the radio stations in my head. i press my cheek to the glass of the windowpane. it is cool against my flushed skin. the blackness comforts. all the other houses are dark. everyone is asleep except for me. everyone is still and i am a fine frenzy of nerves. i tear off my shirt because it grates against my skin. the ceiling cracks have grown bigger. they are starting to peel and flake. i try to slow my breathing, close my eyes, keep motionless, but this is all a big charade. i am simply falling awake.

susie sits

susie sits

in her cramped apartment

on rock haven street

watching the door

with shifting eyes

she pulls at her clothes

waiting for the knock

that comes everyday

busy B with her

twitching hands

and greasy hair

her Cheshire smile

just one hour

just one hit

just one fuck

money in your hand

love out of pocket

oh susie q.

busy B coaxes

we love you

susie stares

at her fingers

picked and raw

blood that runs wrong

always at

Home

In her

Veins

oh susie q.

busy B coaxes

we know you

susie reads

the tv too loud

flipping pages too fast

the words blur

and disappear

her foot taps relentlessly

on the dirty carpet

footsteps cause

her to shudder

the monsters have moved

from underneath the bed

to her front door

oh susie q.

busy B screams

we've got you...

Music From the Day...

does it seem like I'm looking

for an answer to a question I can't ask
i don't know which way the feather falls
or if i should blow it to the left

made off

don't stray
my kind's your kind
i'll stay the same
pack up
don't stray

close your eyes but don't sleep...
for the people who can't eat
who work with no sleep
for the child with no shoes on their feet
a generation who flash heat...
after dark my city's a fuse
after dark my city's a fuse

oh, say say say
oh, say say say

say enough, if you say it not is love
i’m gonna wait, gonna wait, gonna make it home...

‘cause she said love was just like youth
that it was time worth wasting

i wish that you didn't love me no more, i've been dead for years,
i wish that you didn't own me no more, i've been here before.

(norah jones, yeah yeah yeah's, one day as a lion, yeah yeah yeah's, wakey! wakey!, the distillers)

Ritual

the prayer flags burn to ashes

curling to the floor at my bound feet

i have rubbed the buddha raw

to rid the smell of you from my hair

i have prayed for peace

stared at my plastic hands stitched together

gripped my alien legs and begged for release

i have turned the wheel

cracked the mirror in the lion's mouth

eaten the paper caked with honey

but i still taste your skin

exhale, amen, leave me

i can't welcome no one in

dissipate now you holy ghost

you whisper memories like restless chants

sink into my kingly walls

like the incense smoke above the mantle

let something else hold you at bay

a eucharist of teeth and nails and bones

allow me to pray

you away.

Sometime Soon

i'm hoping to turn beautiful

sometime soon

waking to stretch

and all the lines of my body

make sense

and the sheets don't fight me

to sleep

tangled and unkempt

i unfurl myself.

i'm hoping to breathe deeper

sometime soon

and not choke

on the regrets lies and bones

i stored for when

the blackness wasn't

black enough

dirty and sullen

i fall prostrate.

i'm hoping to blur at the lines

sometime soon

i was always a little

sharp around the edges

black and blue

and yet you still see

through

me

ragged and fading

i call on clarity.

days into nights

i wonder

i weep

i stalk

through cobwebs

and i

don't sleep.

i run far

i drink

i listen

to static

so i

don't think.

i crawl

i stretch

i dig

through pictures

trying

to stall.

Summer 2

driving down I-85
lights off as long
as the sun grips
the sky
slowly accepting
her daily death
the wind whistles
through the car door
the radio hums
a tune that is
all the same
falls lake glistens
wild flowers wave

all this
and i haven't
taken a breath
in a week.

New Horizons

larry has a stab wound

healing on his stomach

he lifts up his shirt

to show me the gauze

stained red-brown

he tells me it looks worse

than it feels

jerryl has a friend

who was gunned down

last saturday night

on his front porch

dead on arrival

he has been carrying

a gun in his bookbag

since sunday

toya has a cigarette

hanging out of her

mouth every morning

before the door is unlocked

she is fifteen

and her belly grows

bigger every day

while the rest of her

wastes away

trey has a mother

who smokes crack

until she passes out

on the kitchen floor

he can't read

all he ever thinks about

is picking his mother

off of the kitchen floor

and taking the blackened pipe

from her knotted hand.

i am diagramming sentences

on the black board

ted smokes rock

subject verb object

bob bought a gun

subject verb object

sally sells drugs

subject verb object

i don't want to die

verb

in memoriam

david died this week. his wide grin that stretched across his face whenever anyone entered the room. his clumsy yet calculated dance moves if you happened to pass him the hallway. the neck hugs he gave away freely and wholeheartedly. all gone. i sat next to the altar watching the technicians bring his friends in to the church. his mother sat on the front row slowly wiping away tears from her face. behind the altar played a slideshow featuring david as a boy and then as a young man--the disease that claimed his life a shadow that fell over his face in those later pictures. he was only 23.

Summer

the heat seeps

out of the pavement

in long whisps

stealing the air

from my lungs

the city suffocates

and i shuffle

to the mailbox

kicking magnolia leaves

peering inside

for love letters

that never come

the tomatoes

at the farmer’s market

smell sour and earthy

but i’m still

rifling through

dirty clothes

trying to capture

what’s left of your

skin on my shirts

i sit on benches

drinking beer

sweat dripping

down the backs

of my thighs

desperate to remember

anything at all

the sun sets angry red

over the downtown skyline

the buildings are

ugly and fragmented

and i miss

the curve of your back

the construction site

where no one ever works

gapes like hades

in the humid night

i kick cones

and throw rocks

no one sees

me anymore

i can wonder

all night along

the railroad tracks

but it won’t make

the phone ring.