March 19, 2012
soft cuddly things

weak heartbeats fleeting with
sun-rays still beating upon tin roofs but
its almost-evening sun,
and the terry cloth mothers love while,
wire mother monkeys stick their babies with coat-hanger guns.

i’m standing bare and merciless,
as rheese monkeys and american children become
other without reason & speed.

tachycardia stretches out and little lambs become suicide bombs,
who made the mistake of putting on shoes and schools and
cutting their hair.
wind up coils of anxiety because

ashes,ashes we’re
 all c-u-t down.

February 10, 2012

writing, righting, gone
if you know what i mean.

the monster inside your head gnawing his teeth at
your written flesh,
s/l/-ashes your style, 
he has no care,
for the care it took to put it there.

to have the courage to say it, 
or write it
or paint it or sing it or scream it or gouge it
into skin with a needle, tattooed.

the monster that steals
i want this, and i feel this and i think that
from mouths still breathing& painful truth
out of chests still h e a v i n g.

the monster who steals the courage to
express anything at-all,
much less:
the things that really need to be said.

(i love you.)

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