Deserted

summer hangover in the desert,
with hamburgers, strawberries, and you.

every year you call me, you say,
happy birthday.

this year there was no call
but there was heat and there was
panting and there was no water,
and there was the hot of the desert
with a hangover.

you are gone away for a very long time,
you are gone away and i won't hear from you soon,
which may be better considering
my skin is covered in such dirt and no water
from the sky.

give me a call,
i want to but i won't.

there are places that are not good, there are places
that are not healthy, there are places that are bad,
and there is the desert,

and there are places that make the desert seem bad -
(people
are not meant
to be kept,
how long do you think he can keep you?)
i've taken far too much without thinking,
i've made too many thoughts without thinking.

It's Just A Spectacle.

you are the only girl
i ever wanted,

you are the only girl
i ever wanted,

you are the only girl
i ever wanted,

you are the only girl,
i ever wanted.

Leave me Lonely (Get Real).

i am sick of people and their things,
i am sick of people and their blazers,
and their trail blazers,

i am sick of people and mismatching earrings,
and their people who don't care,
do you even care?

i am sick of people,
smoke a jizz,
smoke a jizz.

i am sick of girls
(what are you missing that i will never have?);

i am sick of boys
(what do you have that i am missing?).

i am sick of girls and boys
and things.

you hair is too dyed,
your waist is too hungry,
your eyes are too lined,
your life is too lonely,

do you care?
(sick and straightened,
uneven and sad,
unfaithful and ugly,
do you care?).

your necklace is bright blue,
your hair is straight dead,
your eyes are sad.

Love Set You Going Like Rock

"Love set you going like a fat gold watch" - Sylvia Plath, Morning Song

This morning we covered you in tiny rocks that we found on the beach. One by one we lathered the edges and placed them on your skin. You looked like a mosaic except there was too much skin showing so we collected seashells and zebra mussels and covered the lines between the rocks leaving only the coral of your nipples open. You sat in the tree and I imagined the bark peeling off the tree and onto your body hugging the curve of your back and your bum. In actuality though, you sat there on the bottom branch and you spread your legs, so not only was the coral of your nipple showing but the coral of your lady as well. In the evening, the fire was raining on our faces, and we stared at you still covered in rocks and shells and we made you a geranium bulb necklace and tied it round your neck and you sat there staring blankly.

This morning you woke up with tiny pills covering your body. I wanted to lick them and make a paste and use it to stick fish scales one by one to your epidermis. I went to the water and caught a fish and then I killed it and shaved its scales off. I glued the fish scales one by one to your right arm and stared at you and imagined how fine of a mosaic you would make if only I could cover the lines between the scales. I sat quietly and waited for the crows to come and I killed one and I took its feathers and I used them to fill in the spaces. Later I found you by the fire with coals skipping across your nipples, your arm still covered in scales and feathers. I wondered who let you fall asleep at the fire with so little material covering your skin. I wanted to smear the coals black and cover you with sand and leave you there for the day, maybe pour water over you and turn the sand into mud but I just left you. I imagined putting you in the tree but I knew the sand would fall off without any moisture to make it stick, so I left you staring.

This morning when you woke up, the scar on your face was shining red, so I went to the beach and grabbed pieces of grass from the shore and I pasted them on your face with clay that I found at the bottom of the bay. You lay there the entire time as though you had never woken while I started at the top of your face, pasting weeds past your eyes, over your cheekbones, down across your lip to your chin. You looked fine, like a mosaic, pieces of skin separated by lines of waxy green. I imagined you as part of the beach, even thought of moving your body to the new ecosystem at the edge of the shore. Your scar now protected by the grass would not be affected by the sun.

This morning I told you how lovely your eyes would be if they were balls of glass and you let me shatter them to flatter the sun. You told me you wanted a brooch but your words could not be pasted so I took you to the bay and I threw you in and I watched you lie there, imagining you as a rock, completing the mosaic of the water.

Letters to L

Dear L,
I saw your father today. He was sitting on the curb by your house and when he saw me he told me, there's something wrong with the dog. He told me your dog wouldn't walk beside him anymore, that he insisted on walking ahead. He must be tired, I said, and he asked me where my shoes were.

Dear L,
I saw your mother today. She asked me how the house was coming and I told her you had collected all the bricks and tiles we would need and that the house was coming fine.

Dear L,
Today my father told me, there's a dead tree I need to cut down, do you want to come? I went to the passenger side of the truck and he said, you bring your notepad, so I did. I sat on the bench staring at the birch trees, wondering what it would be like to be like them.

Dear L,
I was looking through the drawers today and I decided that I like the spaces between us more than I used to. We are never full from each other, and that is good (gluttony is a sin, you know). The spaces between us leave us room for our shoulders and our knees.

Dear L,
When I think of you I see green, peach, magenta and scarlet, like the colour of my coat the other night and the colour in my face when you ask me that. I would like to take you into the woods and pour needles over your toes, and tell you that I miss you.

Fejai

indifference sits on your shoulder,
heavy and aching -
is it the voices or the
silence that are your madness?

there are few (there is one)
boy(s) with whom questions do not
lead into lengthy conversation -
you are (the) one.

your indifference to me is my madness,
artist - you have seen behind my eyes
and i have seen behind yours but still
there is nothing to say, no questions

to launch (i know all the answers,
artist - boy -)
is it the voices that are your silence?
or is it the madness?

We Crumble Scallop Shells

there is a break in the words and the
space on the street,
there is a break in the time it takes me
to digest the tea and the time it takes
for me to wreck the shell you have placed
here in my hand,
there is a break in the lavender lines the
scallop drew when he still lived here,
there is a break in the size of the ocean
and the time it takes to travel,
there is a break in the words and the
space between us, on the street,
in the room and here (our removal
is coloured purple by the bottom of the
shell, purpled broken by it falling
apart in our hands) -

i wish i could draw layers and layers
of salty flesh around my words so you
could understand them.

Save Your Babies, Kill

dirty seagull, fly away,
for i will kill you.

dirty seagull, fly away,
i will rip your beak in two,
and pull it off your feathered
skin.

dirty seagull, fly away
before i find a knife

and kill you.

dirty baby, mouldy skin,
don't worry, i will save you.

dirty seagull, fly away
and give your diseased skin
a chance,

scoundrel, i will kill.

dirty seagull, fly away
for i will kill you.

Wanted

Naked woman
selling trees.

Wanted

White stucco house,
woman with tight ass,
tan, pretty hair,
mowing lawn, scrubbing
walls, short shorts,
hot pants, wearing
work boots.

Songs Of Living Lonely

Crazy man walking and singing his song,
(those bikers snickered, crazy);
Crazy new prophet singing songs
rubbing his afro in his footsteps;

Girl with patterned shoes: I am so excessive,
I want to burn your clothes off (we are all weirdos
in this place so still, so empty) - the city left us
with new names;

I hear your door open, it is strange that you don't
live there, (why am I standing here, it is wrong),
Check to make sure your pen cap is open before
you scratch your wound (she says);

Please don't look at my fingers, the sun has ruined them;
She sings under her breath so noone pays attention to
her face (I meant to tell you);
If you want her body, you want her skin and what
is underneath her.

Riding The Bus To Get Home (The Sun Is Burning The Window And Then Me)

I want to lie in fields surrounded
by pine cones in flourescent orange,
and poles connecting wires and
make love (not to you).

I want to lie in fields surrounded
by trees and lavender stones
and stretch between the lines in
the mud and make love
(not to you).

I want to feel my breast
and legs go numb and lie
in fields beneath the mud
and teach you about street
cars but never once make love.

I will chase your flying
garbage, I will cross
my fingers that your
car comes soon but
I will not love you.

The city is too hot, the
country is too dull and
I want to make love
(but not to you).