Rags of Light (poetry)

Thursday, May 30th, 2013

Because the dark night
Of the soul once cowered to
Your bare fists, you can
Overlook human frailty.
Your forgiving heart
Bugs me.

 
 
 
Hey look! It’s sort of a tanka! I don’t know how I feel about me doing form poetry though. I mean, it’s great when other people do it. But I don’t really want to find out my limitations in that respect. It’s kind of like math. Or fixing cars.

 
 And to anyone who cares out there, I just passed my oral qualifying exam. That means I’m sort of an ecologist now!


Thursday, May 23rd, 2013

Anyone lucky enough to be in New York this weekend should check out a great show.

 
 
 

You say, I’m going to make you wish you hadn’t said that.
I say, I like to wish I hadn’t said things.
Galaxies aren’t whizzing away from us.
Space is getting bigger.
Giggling, stretching.
As I slow down my red light, green light
So you can savor my stop sign
Like slicing open a tropical fruit.
I want to tell you about the best game in the world.
I am bound like water on Mars.
Maybe one day, but not soon,
I want to be like those girls who decide to go outside
Without a space suit on.


Saturday, May 18th, 2013

I’ve seen so many channel zero nuzzles
I’m starting to swallow what they sell.
Whenever I see two people touching,
I used to believe
Her mother taught her to redeem baby birds after a storm.
Now I think
Maybe she just likes the way skin feels,
Wants to love and be loved.
Maybe the shock of warmth spreading across her body
Like a hatful of baby spiders
Feels good.


Thursday, May 9th, 2013

I look over the shoulders of openhearted men
And know my Siamese twin
My missing rib
Waits for me.
But nonsmokers in sticky bathrooms
Legislated my submission to her cancer.
They told me that every kiss of her black leaf was sick,
That when my spirits fell
I should wait for human hands to raise them.
And since I learned to hide her
I have been disappearing behind that fig leaf too.


Thursday, March 21st, 2013

Tilt at the tiny windmills of my teeth.
I don’t have time for your dislike.
There aren’t enough Atlas shrugs
To release me from my mother’s lust for pity.
So I keep my little skin too tight
Because only bag ladies are allowed to be comfortable.
Only in a trailer can you tell the truth about who you are inside.
At night I tighten my tiny teeth
Lock my smile behind bars
Unplug my perfect feng shui hair
Unload the sugar bullets from my eyes
And check off another chilly Napoleon success:
A day without becoming a drug overdose
Burger King layoff
Pregnant teen suicide.
A day without jumping
Into the fountainhead below.


Thursday, March 14th, 2013

A binary star system in bars,
I wear women like plastic beads I can discard.
My orientation, obscured behind suits and boots
Renders them impotent.
A whiskey-perfumed nebula of need to which I am blind
Because I thought it was not me.
But when my clothes,
My hair,
My speech
Are eclipsed by the opaque Internet
The women still smell
My precarious gender.


Sunday, February 24th, 2013

Time flies too close to the sun
This near the asphalt
I want to be a nun.
But gods are just people
Always too close.
At mile 14, I fell away from my last friend.
I was afraid I would escape.
At mile 21, a church saved me
With cool water and Christ
But at such scale, even a tiny cup weighs a ton.
At mile 24, a song
Singed me gently like hot wax
And I learned
No one can cry
If they are chewing gum.


Thursday, February 7th, 2013

Better angels greedy for that greener world,
I wish for wild dryads
To twist the trees, the arms, the aesthetics of my neighbors
For the roots of my pure intentions to sap their rich soil
To grow where no one can dig them up
And make the world
Like my untamed yard
Mine.


Thursday, January 24th, 2013

When you ask me to judge your Humanity
As you run from that curled-up
Dead-spider bandit,
I am as empty as the moon.
You can serve Justice as well as any man,
And with nicer boots.
Justice is cheap,
But only a thief can afford Forgiveness.


Tuesday, January 15th, 2013

It has been so long since I
Ate too much Halloween candy
Ran around the house a screaming, aching pirate.
Thank you for guiding me
Across the floor made of lava.