stickygirl

get me! we made that allnatural health poison
the squitos drive around me, knowing I'm delicious
but knowing I've the poison skin
they land on my safedress
and I knock them dead
their striated legs in a little pile
on the ancient cement stoop.
I doubt I've ever stuck to the air
this much.
bye bye, louisiana
august

why are you following me

I'm empty nest
but my body's gettin biiiiig
sooo float
I walk around new orleans in these hippie sandals Barb gave me the night we stayed in denver
and the pink hawaiian shirt I got last week, it's the only clothing thing I bought since leaving idaho
  17 days ago
I walked down the middle of the road
at twilight
saw three cats
to buy cigarettes
I would trade cigarettes for love
  with you
  with any of you
it's chocolate city, you know
           heeeeyyy, chocolate
I got ice cream
in lieu of screaming that
and I've got the bug
the hotbodied, bloaty bug
& I know,
  I know you're not
  really following me around
we aren't tether limbed
we're not elastic lipped
I'll shush me
but I haven't enough
      friends
         in this sultry, sultry wetnest
yet

VENUS

my evenings in summer. I couldn't smoke at Kari's when I lived there so I found the clubhouse. when I'd ask people if they wanted to come there they'd say yes and we'd zigzag sharp upthe hill through the sages and past mellow pink & graygreen donkeytail succulents and we'd wedge our ankles into seats to prop us on, and they'd say, I thought there would be an actual house, here. I loved it at sunset 10:30 at the tip of summer mountain standard time, when up & to the right there'd be glowing venus. I can do anything I want to now, here, so I sit on the balcony in the trunk of summer at sunset around 8:07 central standard time and up to the right there, thar she glows. familiar as ever. if I were in Idaho still I might lament that the trunk of summer radiates nervously, that days shorten at not my wanting, for I've no doubt the same sun sets there, too. I share a timezone with you. doesn't that craze me? meaning makes me crazy. I'll always think of the sultry air surrounding me at this moment, forever I know it. I might not ever quit at saying so. time changes, my zoning mutates. but I've my forever promises & my familiar footholds in any muting sky of summernight. I'll die with some imprint of a silhouetted palm behind eyelid quakes.
there be no doubt in that.

get mello

hey, chocolate
hey, me
how is this southern night so quiet? where're my bigbugs
just the subtle quiet singers tonight?
and topless bandana'd summer teens on the porch across the street
in hammock house
the forsale sign is gone
hey, pretty mansionhouse
I love it in you

how do you do still

watching this very sad Spanish movie
I'm thinking of a you
wondering, did you ever watch them, things like these
& did you read subtitles
and lay on the couch alone
I thought of you today when I read that Raymond Carver story
called Fat
(how boys love their Raymond Carver)
how they've excuse to be witness
to the Great Calm Mess of
Us All
how they've permission to write
in a simple language
to be expressionless, loveless
nondescriptly appreciationless
you wouldn't appreciate this heavy European film, I'll bet
you're too heavy yourself
too Fat
too otherthanthis
I don't think of you too often, anymore
but when I do
I still fully wonder
for a time

sunday

there's a neighbor to my left, coughing & smoking
at his low brick house.
does lethargy
set in earlier, here?
what's the type of overcast here
the bright light blanket
lavenders & cadet blues
trademarked
I don't know, there, I said it.
I'm overcast in sprays of grayed down, too.

big rubby

sitting on the front balcony in the wet wet wet wet we're buggybodied
insects
sliding legs against wings against hair! in wave clouds, soundclouds
  like little pour cloud passing over the house
solid mists between
biting my sunset
the significant gray lavender
rubbing hairs with a gray butter peach
  where we are,

in denver

little dooms
a light
pile of chirps
an element
  I need to think of
an element
a string of vowels
insects brushing against
night
when is the next full moon? is a question

get in the zone

on this first day I woke up like a new girl on a 366th day of the year, skylight above me roasting me, white thigh from out of the blanket, flannel sweating stuck at skin, breathing around, where am I? we got in too late to see abundance of gardens and trees and coloradoness. I just changed out of my clothes & into my better dress, the good dress from 2008, the always dress which is now the always dress of summer 2013. I woke up differently from me now. now I am coffeed and cooled and thinking of autozone. but I came out from the house and I am dreaming of my new house in new orleans, walking around it in my mind.

even if I try. even if I wanted toooooo

I'm sitting on the yellow house's stoop, again. This for the last time, maybe. It's an immanent tomorrow. Tomorrow is a better day to leave. The neighbor, not at pukeneighbor's house but at squat brick house, is listening to something punk or something, he wears a black tshirt when he smokes and looks at his phone, there's a tv inside, the neighbors watch it with the door open. He isn't doing much on a late Tuesday. Is it Tuesday? What day is it, Kyle asked some guys who came in to his restaurant tonight. I think he had some lines lined up, he probably knew the day. Kyle's good at being a waiter. I like the words waiter and waitress better than I like server. I like to sex things. None of that is particularly true. I'm drinking a watermelon beer again, we got them for the road. The car is packed. Save for the soda maker. We don't even know for certain that it works, but. What if it does? I'm going to make us sodas when we get to Louisiana, and Thousand Island dressing. I think I could make delicious Thousand Island. I like the name. Sometimes kids only want Thousand Island dressing. None of this is actually on my mind. Today a vase fell a couple of feet from the bookcase and onto the carpet in Luke's room. He hollered for a second, and later, on the log at Brody Beach, he surprise-gripped my sun arm and warned me that there is broken glass, to be careful. I thought it was funny because the thing broke, and also because he didn't pick up the glass, and also because he was being careful at me. The vacuum has been in his room for a month at least, a bunch of ants came in and we got the vacuum and had a great time sucking the ants up. So I had a pretty great time sucking the glass up. So he won't cut his foot later, thinking of me. And the little pieces I'll try not to leave behind. I'm sitting on his stoop sort of listening for his skateboard wheels on the sidewalk. He might be surprised that the car is packed. That I said goodbye again to John Shinn, and to Bri, and to Kyle, and Kari and my dad and to Britta, the last. No one is crying, which is a good sign. But smell makes me cry. The picking up of a handsome plaid shirt with sweetsmelling collar makes me lurch a little. But I'm more more more than ever, and it's ready in me. I wish I could write sweet notes for all over the cute yellow house. Maybe butter yellow is a forever reminder of the Summer of 2013. It has been a good one, thanks to many, and to one. I am glad it's true. All of the hugging is out, I've got it in. I've got a shower, I've got a salad for the morning. I've got an ear to the sky & an ear to the heart. I've shaken off the butter sheets with the black ink constellation. I've sucked up the glass. I've got me wrapped up. I've got me winding away, I think I think I do, now.

when I die bury me in the liquor store

I'm sitting on Luke's stoop listening to Nickey's birthday track, it's pretty loud. Drinking an Outlaw IPA not because I'm crazy about it, but it's a pretty good IPA and I taste IPAs all day sometimes, but because it's from Garden City, and made by an acquaintance from highschool, I never had a crush on him, but I guess I'm trying to be pre-nostalgic for Idaho because I truly am leaving it tomorrow. This song doesn't make me nostalgic, just makes me think of Nickey but I'm taking her with me. I mean she's taking me with her. We're taking each other with each other. I'm going to Dad's for a final Dad dinner, and I'll maybe sell the dogcrate for $50. I made $55 selling my synthesizer to Britt. I was going to sell it to another exboyfriend, but I like Britt better. Maybe it's because he was never my exboyfriend. I think I like the music he makes more. No I know. A giant man in a BSU tee walked by with a golden on a leash. The golden was wetfurred, and peed on the tree in front of Luke's cute yellow house. Ida didn't chase it. But I was gripping her by her aqua bandanna. It's not too grubby for a bandanna. For a dog bandanna. Or even a girl bandanna. I said goodbye to Brittany. To Chad, to Gray, to John Shinn. I wanted to say goodbye to John Shinn again. I've said enough goodbyes. Everyone's like, Why aren't you gone yet. And we're like, We know. Because we've got to pack the car up, and I've got to clean my little messes I've messed Luke's cute yellow house with. But then, maybe I won't. Maybe it will become real to us. Maybe I'm more excited than they are. Maybe later I'll write long words about long skins to miss. Long bodies pulled tightly down over a butter yellow bedsheet, long feet dangling. Can you dangle straight. I have hours left of goodbyes, I know. I will be saying goodbye forever, I know.

slowjambs 1 (5/12/13)

your touch is so wonderful
your touch is so marvelous
the joy that I feel when I'm with you
it feeeeeels so good
I'm so glad yer mine
know that I love youuuuu
make it last forever
ya ya
give me kisses
oooh love me
hold me
squeal me
chimney
you know I do
oh oh ohhhh ohoh
mmmmm mnnnnn
you know
know that I loooooooooooove you
hoooo
prettertnnnener
oh io
never never never
make it last forever
I want our love to last a lifetime
I lovey lovey lovey love you
got to make it
ohh honeyy
I I  i I I i I i

how do you do? (5/14/13)

I've got these goodmess
those good meds
I've got those who will do whatever
big bosslady
Trundlelegs
it smells like garlic at work
we got a lotta tomatillos
I'm at the beach
I am the beach
I am a beachface
with riverhair
But we're talking abt mt rushmore
and how crazyhorse will never be finished

I will dedicate a tango to it (5/16/13)

define sentimental
blood red sentimental blues in the style of van morrison
when I was listening to van morrison I was thinking oh man
I'll bet he was like 23 when he made this album
because I was thinking, he had to be 22
and of course, he was
when I was 22 I was in a bloodbath
I had black hair
I weighed 113 pounds
I chased my own tail
I was sentimental
cleaning the sink with bakingsoda and vinegar
the gum red, it was dry
I threw a mango into the yard
I threw the ball for the dog a couple of times
I said what is sentimental and you told me it's the by-product that oozes from your pragmaticism

I'm just sitting downtown Boise Idaho

what I'm actually doing is hanging out next to Lewis and Clark
there's some little Indian kids and stuff
looks like they're treating a fish for some chestnuts
you can always tell Luis, he's the one hanging back
with a raccoon fur ahead
and Clark pointing
and the other guy pointing, too
they've all got on these crazy friend you jacket
the friends hanging down
of their bronze arms
I'm going to miss the way
of the Great West

things we think of alone

in the stars & bars, the neon bikini
wet from river,
it sucked me in
this is how drunks drown
the water black linesnaking across
I wouldn't have fallen in there in daytime, too dangerous
wet home, always the sprinklers on the greenbelt between 3 & 4 am
things we think about alone
the dry eyes, the good goodbyes
the dreams I have about masturbating
always a mother or stepmother figure to embarrass myself in front of
the geminates: double rs, double ss
the ending of sentences with prepositions
I'll let you sleep all day, I'll tiptoe about you
find you coffee
watch your skin on the butter sheets, your shorts of a dusty salmon pink shirt
long pretties
I get jealous when I overhear things sometimes
but alone on a bike in the dark, feeling cold, wet, driving fast to beat it
coming alone in the heat, it's nice like winterblanket
it makes a sigh smile across me.
thinking of your leaving, of my staying put
I'm putting out even in sleep.
get in me
you did, once, many
I'm alright with that now
so I think it
so I build it true.
now

screamy

for those of you writing, I'm suspicious
I have amillion miles long
I am waiting.
I'll sit with your body folded up in me
we're under them, dots con to each, like the pen drops
on your sheets
wish I could find an animal for it
but no matters.

I am growing, in & up too
I've
left, we've talked about it
I'm here for the 4 or 5
nickey britta luke river dad

I like to look at what the others are doing.
I DO not like to think about what I'd be doing otherwise.
I keep glancing out the window for your
spiderlong
and I am wondering, where did you,
& I fairly shed on you

going out

waiting is not moving. shaking limbs out isn't staying. I cleaned I cleaned I sprayed, I even cinnamoned the ants out of mine own evil, watch them shake & burn. isn't that just, why you gotta be so mean. the party neighbors are at it again. mine whine friends, my dad & his friends. they're good, they only really remember one or two stories from my babyhood. or else there aren't enough good memories. or else two just stories for them to shaken their drunk heads & their squint eyes at. When I'm their age, they warn, In 34 years I'll be thinking, Weren't those the best times. thanks for making me look down at the bodworld I've made all shameful.

wasp

"Last August
  I Gave you My Heart
  and The Very Next May you Gave It Away"

this written on a sign above her bed. this lighting the afternoon cigarette, but they won't sleep sober so it's noon when a roll-out can happen. it's august & maybe it's assumed but the shortening of days can be assumed. there is a broken sprinkler head just shooting out little waterspurts. she went home drunkenly to care for his dog, she was being funny at the time. one can write paragraphs for another so long as they're cryptic to let the other roll eyes because their meanings are decipherless, meaning-less. a long white limousine driving by, the pound of bass in some other car in vicinity. tap your dog out of the bushes. don't touch those eggshells. wen't isn't a contraction. it's august, we're leaving tomorrow. go back three months ago & say so. may was a shell looking out of it at an august too far away. but here we are! sleeping in your bloodbed, all of the dreams bad ones. we aren't sex. se'x isn't a contraction. moving all of the cups in to move them out again. a view from before. tears dry, little cheeks for washes all dry. I made you oatmeal, I invited you disinterestedly. I'm back to disinterest, aren't we proud. wad up in my arms saying nothing but that. is it bass or bass? I guess I've the things to go through, I want to be alone in my own arms. to share my own anxieties with my own disinterested self. dis all over me. give me my push-me-away. give me fortyeight hours, push me away. fuck my eyes open, shower me, my hair to grow long outside from me. look up from your paws, feel the breeze on your pretty cinnamon back, feel the scary unfamiliar humid real in front of you. I'm excited for next may. I'll be such an alive thing then.

garbagepail

so many Gs in the bank
I'm listening to the neighbors party
someone just walked out of the house saying,
Party tiiime, gurl
and I'm like, Hella! I'm alone in pretend house, the dog isn't barking
another guy just called out, Text me in 2 hours to find out what I want from Jimmy John's
and I'm all, Helllllla!
one of the neighbors is a super-puker
he superpukes really loudly in the mornings
right outside the window where I'm waking up, and
rubbing my eyes, going, Hella
Hella puke it OUT, bro
get it
another guy who lives in that house is the breast marauder
the tiny razor pube man
it's a gross story
but he doesn't remember me, so
I'll underbang glance grimmace at him, like, ohh Hella
I never have to remind him
that that's not the romantic way to fingerblast a babe
that he has a million too many identical sweaters
that ripping off a hot babe's nipples isn't the way to get
your sharp little penis inside of it

sorry, this was a bad one
but I'm alone, and feeling proud
of life, of brain, of heart & future
  for at least the next twenty minutes, or so

hungover

I can't tell if I'm straightup being ignored by you
I don't want you to leave, am I? where are we going
I don't want Kyle to go back to Nebraska, it makes me feel like I'll never see him again.
I don't want to never see you again.
I did too many bad things, I lost all of my words in one paragraph
I lost all of my tears, down my throat, backwards
I don't remember getting home
to your home
you interrupt ignoring me to ask me if I know what time it is
I don't know how to find the things
the people-things
I've lost
I'm already gone
I'm trying to be capable
I want dates
but I am so sick on dates
I don't know if I impress
leave impressions of, on

I like your face
I like your beard face
I like your profile & your mouth
& the way you point instead of speaking
I like that I'm in your kitchen
& I'm writing about you
& you're moving about

and you just handed me a black ricecracker
with hummus & pickled okra
it was really pretty

I'm always asking so many questions
so people shush me & hush me
when in bed & I'm talking in my sleep
I forget sometimes to not read your
poems and then I can't tell if I'm
sweating or if I'm crying

there's a golden retriever wandering around outside
and I feel this weighty terror
& a terrible jealousy at it