poem: obsessions

the boy had his faceturned off: telling himwas a mistake. and yet,you don't knowuntil you try. isn't thatthe lie, sold in filmsthe ghibli boy the animegirl, pale faces likecaterpillar heads, leaned neatly against windows,shaking fields. the girl,she confesses: the sky goespink, the moon softlucid round. the boy, of course,says yes. he talks to her onlyout…

poem: boy alone, watching a girl

there are lilacs coming up under her skirt— and she stands in shadow on the concrete, fat clouds making dreams behind her. i watch her and imagine: maybe my fingers are touching the raw strands of hair coming loose around her small face, instead of the sun. maybe if we breathed at closer times the…

poem: they told her—Love is violent

and she did not believe it. because the Unrequited is soft, it is gazing out glazed-over windows and waiting for fictions in the mist and the raining grey. but when the boy—is horribly real, the Emotion comes wild, exploding imploding burning loose—the system torn up, the inheritance bolshevik-ed with three smiles. she makes the Raw,…

poem: blame the angels

I should be writing love poems; I am in love. But I do not feel— whatever it is that the poets promised. My mind—is coming loose and falling far; the stardust hazy, hazy in the fear. the people are applauding, making riot noise: he is just a boy— it is just love. I am saying…

poem: the stars turned off, for dramatic romantic effect

I imagine he needs me as much as I need him: I am not idealizing a personality, I am just making a desperate boy who lays awake and would rather have me curled into his side than to have another night spent alone, crying when the color drips, crying when he steps inside his mind…

poem: the downsides of unrequited

i try to read but stare out the window. everything is raw and warm: the sky is touching lips with the snow. i try to read; i ignore the wet slowly spinning between my legs, i shift in the chair and wait for the boy   i do not think about thick, ripe peaches falling…

poem: the third boy is just myth

along the lighted corridors he turned and smiled slightly: that odd thing girls do when they manufacture a crush for a boy that they don't really like, or care about. along the pagan corridors of the forest, and among the thyme and sticky ryegrass he takes her hand he presses her fingers carefully to his…

poem: self-delusion, always in style

there is a dream: right now, he is far away, in London and Japan, and he is not remembering her: he is all symbol, not enough boy. There's no sex when it's only literary, didn't the blood on your lips teach you that, or the blood inside that cute boy in the journalism class, the…

poem: highschool is over (cheers to this)

i am spinning in a blue dress and to first follow him i must be all of myself, not for the matriarchy but for my small ascendence into what He envisioned. this is not high school: strangers will smile at you, later, i promise. Also, listen: the depression and the choas will not go away…

poem: ghost

this is the ghost. sitting with my tongue sour and pressed against my teeth; writing five bad essay sentences and stopping to stare out the inside window. how the hell do people have so many friends? this is the ghost. no longer can I tell if I was in love with the symbol, with the…