ventura, 2007


i remember her in that yellow shirt
corduroy shorts
left leg kite
marker drawn
and no hair
my friend,

they are fighting now
in la mirada

lily, lolita, lo
queens of california
out there in long brown
locks, in all their
girl next doorness
i dreamt of haunted houses
and everyone getting married
and rosie thomas
in a purple dress

not enough money
what they say
this sunshine state’s
a black hole
it’s true
mcsweeney’s, vol 20
in steve’s bedroom
tired- they say
not enough iron

streetwise, tiny
her mouth upside down
warner kids
cars of ventura
behind the wildcat house
half pipe, they’re
skating in the backyard
driving, the three of us
in a grey pick up

tonight, spudnuts
parking lot
red cardigan
broken car and we’re walking
without sky only

clean getaway
dark blue sparrow day
to escondido and back
the first real rain
since coming home
the absence of god
we – are starting fires
by accident
dipping our toes in
to feel warm
i’m here
again slouching
sewing autumn leaves
to their branches

cat tails
the ones that grow
near birches, in pieces
skin and lace
cold feet
and wild hearts
can’t be broken

riding in cars with boys
and big hands
scared of that place
in their heads, girls
with pink hair
and skinny legs
that hungry place they all go
even the quiet ones
who listen to soft music
and read philosphy

night fog
scratches down my arms
patterns from opening
paper bags over
and over
a flower
from yap island

california’s on fire
and winds named ana
black and yellow
the dark afternoons
those palms in pasadena
tall and crooked
leaning right, every single

i was counting crows
near the coldwater canyon
exit, north
on the 101
thinking of oregon
the sea and its rhythm
soft and late
i count down the streets
moon, telephone, hill
i count down from skeel
coe, lantana, ponderosa

moving boxes
isaac and his keyboard
falalfel dinners
pez candy

in my trunk- loose
confetti, a road atlas
a patterned
sleeping bag

july 17th, 2006


asleep on top of something thin
to music, and
woke up in fever
the window, shade
in places it wasn’t
before, dimmer, wild
field backyard

house alone
washed over, it ran
and tripped
over me this
napping dream,
waking to a hush

kitchen, toast
through the rubbish
looking, something
realized i wasn’t quite
ready to throw



moving day
rachela’s loft
making walls
of bedsheets
floral, calico
i remember
there are birds called wendies

shopping cart sounds
in night, and morning
bus ride, LAX
steetlight fire
flies pass on windows
and the palms
like black balloons

summer warms in february
1st street to glendale
overheating car green
leaking to the curb
groceries, immigrants
cans of beans
kidney, pinto

friend in red, singing
1920’s roxy
heart i was driving there –
the unknown theatre –
lost in hollywood, that
drumming melodic pedro
and his lion

pretty sure that was the night
i in white and you
said you know you look
an angel

los angeles, 2007


melancholy play
metro, sierra villa
park and ride

los angeles, 2010



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steve picks me up
grey toyota, hair
of california daytime.
sirens loud,
to highland park, ash
street, to megan’s stomach
stretching to hold
something round, like
the sun’sĀ 

baby names –
elouise or pony.
freaks and geeks
potato salad

late mornings, afternoons
i think, hymn
california – cotton
woods, juniper
golden hills, everything
dry, but ripe how badly
i wanted to leave
four years, two years
ago, now sitting
looking around missing
it all

bending 110 freeway
taco trucks

we are driving to altadena
wind blowing the hollow
in my ears, and the one story
bungalows pass
like a filmstrip
with wind chimes
and tiredĀ paint.

cheese store of silverlake
the little alley of fairbanks
place, a place
of her own, a breakfast
nook, cats, something
stitched, big red
poppy, leaning
against the wall.

a patio, a view
you can even see
the hollywood sign.
the front room is dim
a record playing
couch low, we sit
and she tells me
in a maroon dress
what happened
her weeks
on heroine.

outside it is bright
she is shading her eyes.

small sorrow