books you should read before you die...

World According to Garp - Irving
Way of the Peaceful Warrior - Millman
Ishmael - Quinn
Bell Jar - Plath
Interview with the vampire - Rice
Dharma Bums - Kerouac
On the Road - Kerouac
Catcher in the Rye - Salinger
Great Gatsby - Fitzgerald
Henderson the Rain King - Bellow
Bastard Out of Carolina - Allison
Beans of Egypt Maine - Chute i think
Song of Solomon - Morrison
Lolita - Nabokov
Language Older Than Words - Jensen

all i got. now.

the couch im certain
was trying to burn me alive

i dreamt last night
that you were parked next to me
i didnt see you
you said, "there are wolves around here"
and i turned
didnt recognize you

you did though.

laughed
i asked what was funny
and you shook yr head and looked down
i knew then

i asked how your mother was
and you said that she didnt like dogs either and you began to walk away
i called after you telling you left the doors unlocked

you came back to the car
you brushed against me
electric

i woke up

as i was unlocking my door
someone said, "good morning"
i almost didnt turn for fear it was going to be you
it wasn't
i sighed with relief.
smiled at the old man and said good morning.

we all watched the boat come in
at midnight
carrying our stimulants
and ammunition
wet lips and waves cracking on the dock
a lighthouse bleating out its welcome
a thousand stars pushing into place
a faceless moon smiling
thunder brings the rain

you wore flannel
played guitar
hobo tunes
woody guthrie'd laugh
and you'd throw your cigarette butts into the yard

you liked that i was barefoot
said i had righteous calves
found my sundresses something you could believe in
you gave away the books you read
and laughed when i hid mine from you in my mother's attic

you left on a tuesday morning
left a note by the telephone
it wasn't like you to call
saying, "if you find yourself missing me, stop"
and i threw it into the yard

you called on a january full moon
drunk gypsy woman nearby
rambling about how your fingers were thick as birch trees
you sang about barefoot waitresses you missed in new york
and in the chorus spelled my name

i wore corduroy
wrote poems on a tyepwriter
poem pianist
god'd laugh
and i'd write them in Indian ink on your back while you slept

I liked that you laid on the floor eyes closed inhaling deep to jazz o'henry waltzes
said i could watch you love it til you were done
found your fascination something i could believe in
i gave away the photos i took of us
and i laughed when you hid them from me in your father's house

i wept on a tuesday morning
cried myself back to sleep by the telephone
it wasn't like me to miss someone
saying, "i dont care" a hundred times
and you threw me away

i listened on a january full moon
drunk cowboy nearby
rambling about how my fingers were as fragile as my soul
i listened to you sing, heard my heart break again
and dropped the phone on the "e"

sick child
fix me
mother
please

3 a/m
find myself
alone
tired

curled into
fetal spiral
shaking
dream

of constellations
yrs mine
tangled
starry

i slept in yr mouth
curled around yr epiglottis
strumming it with my middle finger
watching the saliva drip into puddles
reflecting your teeth
chipped and crooked
gnashing through my hair
choking you while you worked

folding like
laundry
on lines i've drawn
between plateaus
and sugar mountains
some one said the elevation was deprived a constellation
of a bear
that you always could point at
and kiss me under
giving me a bucket of soap
with a washboard jingle

mis communication
and an i love you
for your worries
grow old
dig holes
and beside him let me be buried

I grew up on Main Street
across the street from the child molester of
1972
before i was even born
but he was kind to me
when i had a flat on my bike
he fixed it
in my front yard
looking around him
nervous
he had kind eyes
blue
cloudy
some say he didnt do it
i dont think he did
neither did my parents
who let him
buy me my first cassette player
because they had no money
and he smiled when i sang
and told my parents i'd be a star
he couldn't read or write
so i did his banking for him
filled out checks
for electric company
and supermarkets
and i would swallow hard
when he signed his name
confused
and awkward
he'd give me a ten dollar bill
thanking me
insecure and nervous
his family wouldn't talk to him
we made him dinner every night
my father and him talking about his days lost in the jungles of Vietnam
wishing he'd been killed then
when he could have been a hero
not a
child molester
my mother sorted his pills
his anti-depressents
and his anti-anxieties
into color coded boxes...
red
orange
yellow
green
blue
purple
and a full rainbow on saturday
when he thanked for
he wept
he died 3 weeks after we left Main Street
we came home for the funeral
I went to his funeral
couldn't go in
stayed in the parking lot
smoking a joint
watching no one come
and no one leave
waiting for my parents to offer their condolences to no one.

--- undone.

wednesday
upward
onward
loveward
homeward
bedward
backward
roundward
someones in the kitchen i know....

difficult.

and it's a hard..... and it's a hard...

wake up
to find out that
im blessed...

such a beautiful daughter.

bee stings
we sing
something nothing
missing things
gone here
have there
nothing something
all nowhere

friday the 13th.

nightmares
doctors
stings
spills
and
something to forget

wait
come home
yes
finally
release
sigh
o
world
in a good
way
dont worry

happy.

everything is so
heavy

what do we do
here
now
why didnt we do it sooner
where am i going
why do i want to go there

i want ice cream.
a lot of it.
and my mother to remember me.

lost.

vivid
full
almost three
full
rainbows
silliness
and catastrophe

assessing the assessment again
and i still agree

missing.

friday.
thankfully.
busy week.
thought a lot about kerouac timeline project
seems heavy
want to.
sleepy
wish slept another 4 hours
and didnt have work
i miss magnolia.
i always miss magnolia.

coffee and goldfish
overwhelmed with feeling
smile
smile
smile

in a rusty silver car
i smoked his last cigarette
knowing he'd notice
but needing him to notice
something
anything
i waited
the sweat dripping
collecting between my thighs
under my breasts
down the small of my back
he was inside
buying guitar strings for a guitar
he couldn't play
but wanted to
cause he said all the cunts liked guitar players
he didnt want me to come in
i didnt ask
i knew
the radio sent me vivid horoscopes
lyrics telling me to drive
turn the key
his key
and leave him there
all alone
pushing the door open
stepping out onto the sidewalk
searching for his car
and realizing what happens
he'll sit on the curb
upset
taking it in stride
reaching for his cigarettes
remembering he left them
asuming i smoked that last one
but i sit
wait
sweat
listen
stare
at children across the street
at the ice cream stand
wishing i were with them
laughing
learning
licking
loved
he emerges
pulls his beltless pants up to his hips
runs a hand in his greasy unshowered hair
slides in his seat
his scent foul on the air
familiar
he fumbles with the keys
nervous
anxious
turns the wheel
reaches for his last cigarette
glares at me
and asks me if ill ever be all right.

on a bench
in buloxi
i ate his heart
shaped like a kidney
pulsing out
nutrient and my name
begging
for mercy
or to
love it back
i swallowed it
whole and full
pushed my palm
against my belly
satisfied
and sad.