In wonder, I write

when days of hands
and fingers too red to know
better, too dry
to want to spring (water
water water, can't you cry
for me?), turning into this
paisley pajama pant night,
the beat inside my mind,
the slice of desire on this
cursor page (she blinks
like her eyes are stuck
open, like the perpetual eyelash
lodged in the pupil black), she
sings, it's desire, I've said
it already once, and horses!

Horses, I want one in my bedroom
now; wooden to ride, like my daddy
always said he would be (Oedipus
electra, you greek god
complex, I don't have time
for your analysis) – or the temptation
riding my veins, how sometimes
the longest waiting can be the most
delicious (of anticipation, we seek
to find), but I have not a patience
for creatures, or not a patience
for myself, I am not a creature,
I am seemingly a woman, wearing
the looks of a tired one, not caring
or matching or being a fashion icon;

should I begin to sign
my name in lowercase?

I want a disco ball for my bedroom,
too, right above my rocking horse (I ride
it all night long – the disco ball, not
the horse); lick my splits, dance
in slow motion, robots, I need another
haircut in order to lose the housewife
mentality (but it's only 2008, not the 1950s,
so it may be too soon for the length
I am searching for); egads, what a word
not commonly used, perhaps, like thus
and sashayed – I miss using words
when I am silent; keyboards do me
no justice unless it is tori, unless
they are precious things and I am
not quite as angry as the trees
growing on my legs (oh, I need that
anti-fungal medication, I do,
and I don't even have a fungus,
unless you count the mushrooms
in my refrigerator, and those are
my roommate's) –

equals insane sin, the words similar
and yet, the same; trust, the voice
of a man I know with my life,
his lines living inside the telephone wires
of my heart, my living blood; split this,
I might lose all my meaning, or,
using commas, create my own
adjustments for the outside world,
and I love that punctuation mark,
and this one


yes, like that, harder, punch it

that was amazing;

could we be held into one heartbeat?

We'll blend our bodies, the flesh
of our toenails curdling at the sounds
of milk heating in the microwave –
oh, how I do enjoy the raw eek
of dairy in cups, but one or the other
of us might get hurt when I shave
my kneecaps for you (only once
have you ever seemed to notice,
not when your eyebrows are so
hairy, and the armpits are disturbing
when someone else notices the sweat);

that's not a punctuation mark
I see used very often'
and maybe I should use

more often, as well –

as a matter of fact, my pointer
finger knows the direction of
your soul, it's in the chicken soup
book – for gold fighters or fog
trainers or motherfuckers, you know'

free chickens now, you sold out
of the books (now I'm just allowing
the keyboard to decide what
my brain wants to say, hands so close
to the words); I know the difference
between women and men, I know
that we only have hairy armpits
in the winter, when no one is
paying attention under our sweaters,
this is going to be a nightmare to abbreviate
or edit or even line break, oh, the lines break
into one million pieces – should I
ee cummings it? how is that even done?

Fuck it, I keep hitting the f key,
it wants me to fuck the keyboard,
to destroy the minds of those reading
this, because it will never be an understood
item of solidarity. All I want to do now
is slice out lines, nibble and shred,
but the entirety is so gorgeous, it is
my mind, music and poets, the writer
in me longing to get ouuuuuuuuuutttttt.

Get done.

Get gone.

multi-chapter epic fic, but in poetry
verse lyric form. And not quite so
coherent or even legible. What I wouldn't
do sometimes to write like this
every night, but I can imagine, it
might get old, even as I age.

I'm now 25.

a/n: so, fictionpress fucking sucks and won't let me put in two of my punctuation marks. first one is the up arrow on the 6 key, second is the curvy brackets next to the p. and there's supposed to be a series of semi-colons after "punch it." seriously. go to my myspace to see it in its entirety. myspace dot com slash smackalalala - look for the blog once i get it up. if you made it that far.