Cubits

I float on my back.
I sacrificed all of the deer for the grasses to grow on the shore.

The smell of the river disinfects my lungs and blows my mind.

There will be a tree for the healing of the nations
And the wolves will have lost my scent.

Roots point the way to the convergence -
the convergence at the cubit city
but I don't want the ride to end.

I want to keep going.

In through the yellow stones I imagine I will float,
and roll onto the sand.
Cold, yellow sand.

I will never see the wolves again.

Tombs

Some people think this is the wrong way to fix things
but they don't realize there's no other way.

Cords and glue
Statements in skulls and nails.
The battle starts in the mind,
and the Shot heard round the World cannot be taken back.

Golgotha hides a space full of thunder longing to be heard
But it has no tongue

The tombs in my mind rumble and old angers wake up
They flutter their false eyelashes at the closed eyes and ears beyond the doors.

My glue makes an ugly spectacle.
I stomp my foot and say,
"What's done is done!"
And count the number of my spectators.

Knotted cords draw the eye like nothing else.
Another spectacle -
the workings of the world on display:

Shout louder and they will listen.

The cogs in her mind match the wheels inside the earth.
It took longer for my skeletons to figure it out.
They are tired.

Their lashes fall to the ground
And leave my graveyard in peace.

Next to Normal

I flee from next to normal.
Off-kilter; it hates me.
I devastate homes and lives
I am not welcome on the playground or at the hotel;
When things are next to normal I am not invited.

Abnormal reaction
or Normal,
The colors still swirl when I hear a discouraging word
And I still see them as I run away.

The fog on the water is next to normal because it is usually not there.
It shapes light beams
which are shaped like voice bubbles
filled with caustic words.

Off-kilter words like upside-down pyramids which always fall on the same side in my tilted head
 - which is next to normal.

Next to normal
is like being beside oneself:
Two people on the merry-go-round who are
afraid and not afraid;
lonely and not lonely.

Next to normal is not normal.
Revisit the sick bed of the past, where your mind can lay for months.
Or make a show of visiting it for the first time.

And I am not invited,
normally.

I am afraid.

Regret

I found a book and it added a bar to the end of my year-long commitment.

The magazine on the table shut the door of the house of hopes and dreams where I used to live.

I have begun to grow trees from the bust of Pallas
right above my chamber door
In the house of never running away.

Of never getting away;
of never wanting to.

I know a Barbie who is trapped in a plastic bin in a basement.

I know one who is stronger and more flexible
With a tree growing from her heart
to puncture the lid.

And her tattoos are made of roots.

I know a mystery whose only prison is paper.
The trees pose for her and the road rises to meet her
as do her friends

My skin and tangled hair stand in front and behind;

Where am I to go?

Out-of-the-box thinking never left school.

I listen to your regrets and resent the world.
It is tiresome to hear about commitments and cars
And the unusual strength of those with no regrets.

Different

You have to drink coffee again with people who don't understand.

An empty communion,

A smile, a nod.

You have to go home,

Hold yourself

Send me caring words

and worry that something is very wrong.

They don't understand.

You grew up faster.

You have many birdcages

and you never share your secrets - 

only your feelings.

You will return to people like you -

Someday:

A certain kind of different.

Rot

Dashes, words, numbers
Boxes, Pushpins
Words
My gods

Pictures move and grasp my emotions
The words of others are a precipice I climb each day
And I listen to them.

The others are my envy
They bring me shame
They take minutes from my life

Moving pictures
My emotions
Moving pictures
My time

My appearance
My confidence
My talents
My worth.

Music

My God.

Those without riches will select a wood that will not rot.

Hatred is my God.
My God hurts me with rocks and hard places.
He deceives me with wood that will not rot.

My paper calendars fill the ground.
I exhume weeks and weeks of paper.
He lied.
He told me they would not smell.

Rumors of love, a secret weapon.

I want to look good for you.

Mermaid

I want to be a mermaid
Or a woman born of the water
who sings cryptically and vengefully to men who will not remember -
Who raises her arms to pull locusts into the deep

I am a woman with rabbits darkening her eyes and bringing her messages
Whose men serve her pancakes and do not remember.
I wear shoes when it rains.

But I will not divorce my friend
I will walk barefoot under an umbrella in the rain
The colors will gain courage and walk with us,
and maybe claw us like they are birds of prey.

I will dance better.
My bigger mistakes will go away,
And the locusts will not

cannot

follow us

On our street of sharp color.