dear diary

where am I?
it's night the bugs are silent
but this: go about my legs
scheduling, sucking at my blood
well, turn around slowly, fat body
move about, checking
for degree of lost
for debris I've lost
I slap
bet you squash it, you
everyone else talks about how
the winter is coming for them
but no winter comes for me
I'm bare legged, short skirt-did
I'm sheeny, I'm shy
I'm processing ponds
little pools of poem in my head
my arm stay open
my legs spread
I'm a constant in this pool
I'm a constant sweat
it gets dark early
that's the only way to tell
there's a change
can see more stars than you think I can see more stars than you think.
you'd be surprised at the recognizable constellations I see
the same as they're at home, or whatever
its all open late
arms all open late groping
groping at the full night the full  night
my warm wet me
where am I?
I'm a big open wet glad sack
and I got all
that I smile
and I schedule
and schedule
and scuttle
and sad, at it all
but really not
at all

up

so many bugs in your hair to wake up in

a goodmorning place to be

shake the leaves out

shake the leggies out

iridescent wingers

green shine

morning muscle

in a back all taught with tough

morning tuft, curls
shake my halo

smoke hair halo

wave smoke, docile eyes

bee dance, twirl

such a shorty

mourning doves

all of the others in matutinal jam

singing for summer

and overcast under outside bedclothes

I can sleep through the night, now

I am a furnished hole

a piece of finish, sometimes

suspend it

not be disbelieving