Nostalgia

My old description for myself- came upon it. Thought I'd share.

i will judge you based on your musical taste.

i will have an idea of you it's hard to live up to.

i like laughing so hard i cannot breathe.

i have a game named after me that consists of kissing as many people as possible in one night.

i like the naked female body. more than the male one.

i like clove cigarettes.

i am trying to breaking your heart.

i will do anything sober, that i would do drunk, including you.

i like stargazing.

i am in love with love and lousy poetry.

i bought records but i don't own a record player.

Tell me about the room you slept in last night:

I lie with my lover sitting on my breastbone.
Actually, she's two inches to my right. Inches like a Mason Dixon line.
Inches so far apart that cross-country texting seems closer.

Me, rigid in my thoughts. My un-enhanced eyes stare straight up at the ceiling- an out of focus darkness before a movie flickers on. There's too much focus on focus, and on laying aligned on your back.

There, with your arms by your side like the end of some yoga class, like the last repose inside a coffin. The symbols of the shapes we sleep in.

I turn to curl: that knee-crouch-blanket-hug of the fetus.

Every time we sleep-
birth or death.
Birth or death.

I sleep under you,
inside myself.

Poem and a Picture

Poem for the unfinished

cliff hang her
cliff hanger

third grade reading lesson

not everything ends
sometimes we just don't see
what happens next

I was so angry
young soft fingers curled
in balls

and now you curled
young soft ball
from my nipple
to knee

our story is mid-sentence
I am writing it
every day
another sequel
What if one day
I wake up and


Portrait of my sweet friend Amylin Loglisci who makes the pretty art you can see in her background and pronounces things cutely.