why is it that i hear screams in the night.
when i close my eyes, and it’s quiet.
flashbacks of you, having to be restrained.
you biting, biting. i’m bleeding.
memories of you strapped down, pumped full of ketamine.
close your eyes, close your eyes. i’m pleading.
One day when I was bathing in my usual sadness I noticed butterflies on a bush in my backyard. When I approached it I was surprised to find that they didn’t fly away but remained. These purple flowers growing, not flying, towards the sun. I marveled at their mimicry.
I wondered why life couldn’t be as simple as these charming buds. Why does this life have to be so tragic? And why would seeing a butterfly shaped flower bring me such joy? Why couldn’t I just ignore it. I wonder why I have to notice every exhausting detail.
I need some space—some breathing room. But how can I ignore your tears after you’ve seen an injured bunny? And how could I ignore your questions of, “Will I go to Heaven?”
You are a part of my world, but for you—I am your world. For you I will continue to reach, reach, and reach.
I like the way the water seems to go the right when the wind comes in from the east.
And when I look up and squint, I’m reminded subtlety of a winter’s tree.
Barren branches just at the top and a bird giving a low, lonely call.
Within a second I’m reminded of where I am.
A place where the screeches of mowers are never-ending and the sun always shines.
The longing always remains though— to have a break from the heat and for it to be so quiet that I can hear the falling snow.
had a dream of my father last night
sitting across from me in a ferry
going which way, I have no clue
he faced the water, he wouldn’t look at me
he seemed mad at me, like he knew
I wanted to ask him
about the time he wanted to die
but I remained silent
the winds played with his thick mane
the low gray clouds behind him
ushered him back
I woke up sad
water everywhere, around me
surrounds me
puddles, the ponds, lakes, the sea
water above, around
surrounding me
my head under everywhere it seems
stuck breathing in bubbles, barely
but I’m gasping for air in my dreams
dreamt of your Moses last night
as if in a deep sleep
you just let him go
he went the opposite direction
down the stream
smiling amidst the sparkling water
that was taking him away
they found him by the bank
and loved him
but I spied and watched him grow
your Moses was brilliant
you would have been proud
Look at you
with the pink sky behind you
adjusting your cap
like you care
Look at you
with your bored eyes closing
faking your sleep
like a dare
Everything he told me was a lie.
The bits about the winter, his past,
his apparitions.
Even that story of him skating
fearfully on the ice
Before he blacked out to
Dream about her.
Lost and crying in Heaven.
Everything he told me was a lie.
by the time he pulled the bird
out of his pocket
its damp wings were the color
of melted butter
it was gasping, pecking ferociously
its canary spirit flapping away
after the time he pulled the canary
out of his pocket
the soldiers wept for
the absence of its sound
reason lacking, trying unavailingly
to keep any happiness from floating away
may God bless all the delicate
creatures that will hold your hand
in their impossibly strong grips
and shed glimmering tears
as you admit you’re afraid to
take your last breath
place their long sweet-smelling
manes over your eyes
so that your last thoughts
are of beauty before you die
The Tape House 