bad news noone

I just got the saddest news

at the yardsale

my dad came by, I was in rollerskates with a little mimosa 

in one of those tia maria cuppies

and I have been good, distracted, happy

bringin in alll that $$$

and I introduced him to Kyle

and Kyle went on & on because it's my dad, finally

so he said, Let's take a pic

and it was pretty dark, 

my dad wasn't into it I don't think

and you can't even see the skates.

he told me that the Stoddard family cabin is going down

torn to the forest floor
that hasn't seen a sun or a grower
since 1932

fucked, gone

ripped off

sometime next week. I was going to go there on my birthday

so I could look out at the lake at night

at the big orange moon on the mountains

waxing toward that
full flower moon

its reflection on glass

because no one's there yet

save for the mansions

and the goose, being just so

I wanna kiss someone everytime I see them

- I just said this aloud

after Kyle told us that he kisses Gray 

whenever they see each other

I said, that's nice, that sounds good

and Kyle said, I'll kiss anyone, it's fun

last summer, we went to the cabin

the vortex at the cabin

in robes, in tyedie

☮ frog

drank in the sun all day

sunscreened one another's noses

when we fell asleep in it

last summer, we thought it necessary

to greet each other with 

kisses, always

and we did, for awhile

but then I guess we all forgot about it.

I grew up & out, there

I lost my orange kitten at the cabin

my cousins & I went door to door

wearing sombreros, captain's hats

and the cabin neighbors would look sadly at us

because there was a tiny kitten in the forest somewhere??

But we found him, 

(his name was Desmond)

beneath a seat in the motorboat

just mew, mew, mewing away

anyway, I wish I could go to you with this

to lament, hey...

we were going to go there

but it'll be deadforest by then

I wish I could tell you, and I could tear

carefully

and you could hold me with your voice

but

  you don't like 

bad news

17: cedar shadow, waxwing warts

To lay in the moss, a cedar waxwing floating soundless back & forth over my body. A bed of goldspeck lichens, the tundra, cushioning me like alcohol. In the corners of my eyes loop-lichens play their paths, winding around their yellow-cored families. The dog-lichens chase them across the pale-bellied daisy; mount atlas rising in a distance through the fog. I feel a pinch and then the calm blood from the wound of a snapdragon, its wild dog-mouth bared but toothless. Meaning no harm. I take a bite from the devil's fig and share the rest with a goose lounging nearby in the snow. The world was covered with a fine spray of dot lichens, their frosty-rimmed thalli pricking the light. The roving morning and dot lichens now in shadow; a cascade of soft warts across my sleeping skin.

19: spring snowflake lichens

Like a snowflake (in spring), and the only character around is a goose (Canada). I, along with water hesitate, churning my hands in and out of air (an element of some water there), the fine fog surrounding the frost-lined water. The goose (biting at the snow) warns of impending something. I scratch my flesh; wart lichens happening to grow across my calves and knees (bitter, I am at this, but still in wonder at the colors & textures). The fine dirt below, the rockbright glimpse shining off cliffs. Your own cliffs, your own fuzzed & lichencovered rocks (testes), there, so in my mind a snowflake (in summer). Your own resurrection plant. I admit, there were tranquilizers, but this was a summer of regretlessness! Awakening to the sound of the sparrow, the scent of soapwort as it sapped across my happy earlymorning body! My skin in the cold, cold pond, the scratch of thornbush lichens (coastal) combing through my hair.