coming back, 2007

flying over new mexico
above the second sea level
soft cursive
fleece rising
up out of
and lumps
a second sea
level, a blur
of foam
and one line-
for a moment

the city at night
little my city bright
and i am coming
down in

a letter to owatonna,
the monsoons are here
dust floating

dreams in the middle
he was scratching her back
and her arms the sound
too loud
and my brown dress
too short
my bones not showing
enough in my knees

i didn’t expect people to keep me
while i was out there
yawning on trains.
i remember daniel.
we are growing a vegetable garden
and reading milan kundera.
being buried,

kirsten says
“i don’t want to hold something
that when you hold it
it dies”

dreams he is
kissing my knee

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

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