It’s Easier To Choose When To Speak For Your Other When No One Knows About Them

So, We can have our dual returns
they to us
and us to the sheaths of atoms that
we had to ignore.

Queen of the no-subject email-

When i deleted my tracks
erased my tracks
i have no tracks
i have my tracks, my tracks
 where are my tracks
i hid my notes
i got them back


Who took the bite?
’Twas she.
She mightn’t have stitched it back together,
she was told there was a greater risk
Effort to know but not be influenced
Resign to the pale yellow
Do only half the work

Slides betray their own progression
Into, not next to
Sidewalk portions lain

A mind is a moving thing
Out of, not after
Open the door so I can leave


The first computer programmer was a woman
Daughter of a poet
Translator of Italian memoir
The height of Romanticism
Her name was a valentine


Saturn strode the moon three times today
and I haven’t even had breakfast
It is practical, yet boring, to do only one thing
I hold my potential collaborators scarf

With a flow like this who needs friends
Back when my limbs were golden, I was lost
I was wild

Trying to move bodies through an idea is a feat
Folding and cutting paper, and scratching notes, is less of a feat

The more you practice something the worse for wear it gets
I could never return to that shirt.
Carefully unsnap and reveal, disentangle
Every fray, spreads
I regarded it as the happiest of my life
Exploring too far down the wrong corridor

Nothing is a failure without a plan
Force yourself to end differently
Compulsory propulsion

Out And About

I own this city
née, these farms
Trapped by the medium

Traveling Down Clifton Place in PM

walking into and out onto a wide field
the feeling of standing in a meadow
loose space between the bones

I think of shimmery things, and small flowers
light things, stringy but tall and calming
firm to the earth

Starry Starry Night

Girl, redeemed by your blue moment
skim you match the blow
stand, vagabond, 
you left and were replaced.
I wanted to be let down more
I wouldn’t have minded for somebody
to thud into the glass like a bird
killed by velocity
and an honest mistake.

Oz transported us
Blanket of planetarium.
somebody sitting next to me smelled so good
but like his wife’s deodorant
they probably use the same one.
someone was wearing a watch, difficult thing
I’d like a cafe latte,
Blue, relax into your floor duet

This Is A Test

Fools with loaded machetes standing in uniform outside of whole foods
fodder for the say you wanna revolution graduation acapella speech
I made you cry when, say when you don’t say, does she?
Or don’t they
Coat, gotta layer it’s cold could be colder
This is going nowhere let’s say goodbye
Love I never told you, Mariah, remember?
This should really stop, no
I really hate where this is heading
I think we all know, it doesn’t end well
How could it? Well, when you put it that way
I’m not ashamed to say this is a stupid exercise 
When will you realize?
Let’s forget that ever happened
let’s pretend we’re strangers
sounds fun I could be down
Text me later, hmu
Style with a battery
Bee pollen No! Ginseng
Incense is transportive
sentences get shorter
“Come On Home To Bed-Stuy”
The colonizer and the colonized

Late Night

I went to this crazy show
It was dance in tenor
I believe the colloquial term is “breath of fresh air”
id even k

Cluster Of People Lying Down Group Shot

half buried in a cucumber field
in Sadaa, Yemen

conspiratorial rambling, the rationale —
I've edited out a lot

This photo
taken in 1994
shows a starving woman at a makeshift clinic in Ruhango, Rwanda
where thousands took refuge

We showed people the moon,
the Orion Nebula

Shine On –
soft, enchanting glow!

we move fast through country lanes,
we sing songs to calm the collective tension,
flags painted

remote data
could not be fetched

I wasn't sure where the second groundhog was hanging out that evening
and it was getting late
so I decided to just take a walk
back the farm road to see

Star Clusters in Scorpius

police advances
a cluster of youth

my thriving vegetable garden

Just The Morning

I’ve always liked to sleep with books in my bed
It’s probably true that some of their knowledge is absorbed through this simple intimacy
The mind of the writer, thoughts, words, the hand, connected to the pen or key,
the ink to the press, the paper, the publisher,
the runway, the carton, the slip,
The coffee, the spoon in the saucer, retail,
connected to the paper, the cover, the hand, my sleeping skin

For someone who came alive on the internet, computers sure feel hard and cold
keys sure feel tappy
My long natural nails sure do establish a complication
Loud sound
separate from soft scratches
Coated on the paper, coded on the page

We learned to speak sex with a delay
Identity with a chorus
Arms and legs could not resist
Sitting, tapping self, walking, seeing self, sleeping self
How a version

I wonder about a chat room that could smell like a shower
the aftermath of steam and shampoo

~*It’s hard to tell because the nails are small, but the polish is reflective*~

January Late In The Decade

unfortunate me when I’m happy
I just want to perch as a little ball at the peak
a doughnut covered in sugar—
I’ve ridden this trolley up
let’s see how I can take it down

I hate feeling full
I don’t want a body full of beans

I’m mad at their softness
concerned with lines, blind
reliably aware of faults
full of dust, powdered
to pop and swallow, bald in libraries

The winter when the pipes burst
Screaming into the store downstairs
Panicked, the man entered our apartment
Amanda in the bathtub watching Netflix
the tub was full of icy water, clear in a yellow way

We were going to meet up
maybe get some mac and cheese
But he fell in love, and maybe he could love two girls at once, but more likely he’s marrying this one, likely in the next few years

Libraries are warm places
they are open, but more often ignored
the infinite other feels different when there’s not someone perceptible encoded in bits
the peak looks different
the dough, I must admit, flatter
the sugar, I must admit, sour

this beloved string is my dance partner
this string, beloved, is an empath

this stone is from a shop in Oakland, 
but still it is black and smooth
heavy, really, so to invoke the middle of the forest perfectly
riding the edgy internet party
queer in Crown Heights
dosed in color
the living future, new moon

Stop, everybody just stop, and throw your hands up
and stop asking how to be alive inside an institution
Institutions are old. The powerful crumble—
Gender is over. If I say it is— so what?
I could tear out every page here, put them in a pile in the middle of the room, on that table
What are you afraid of? What’s the joke
—and somebody, most likely, would be too afraid to press their hand down into the pile until it started to sweat and pool and run
dampen the words they could turn to black wet goo to dollop on each other’s noses to bite down hard on
I would laugh I’m pretty sure everyone would laugh
We’d all laugh—
and then when the room exploded we could still blame it on a terrorist, because we would know the truth
I hope that the ashes of pages would fall upon Brooklyn
Everyone come out you bats, look up!
Cough if you need to
the embers can get hot, and they most certainly are not healthy.
I wish this stabbing would stop
daggers, wishing, caught between reverence and childish knowing
realizing, freakishly, that the boundaries are invisible
these are reasons why I defend the past as the most direct route to this moment
immediate as a needle in your veins, pre-AIDS immediate
a needle to your veins
safe and pure

wholesome experimentation does not equal death


The grass was alive and it prickled my lips close to the earth, with care
The moth was anxious and nature-white
I didn't grab it but my fingers
Rubbed easily on the body
Falling to dust, coating me, green, softly


No one wants to admit that I can have a feeling with a red pixel
Wrap my heartstrings around it down
In back where caverns grow
Black black
Beyond and all
Passed, one by one
In circles, summers, sometimes

History At Dinner

The smartest computer was a person hiding inside a machine
It had the shortest and slowest distance
To make between sophisticated decisions

On The Eve Of My Anniversary

Links can be chains
And chains as a prison
flicker falsely
connection benevolent.
Links that let us spy
That flood us.
Swagging the promise that we can touch each other

Promise us you're not anonymous
Computer, take my hand and tell me you know them
A yellow circle
And bend
Link and flood and fill