“Please to be restful. It is only a few crazies who have from the crazy place outbroken.” ~ William S. Burroughs I We lived on a terribly dark street that wound for about a half a mile. On one side was the great big Puget Sound; and even when I was little some wealthy people owned vacation homes on the sound side; but those of us who lived there were poor. We wouldn’t have known we were so undesirable had it not been for those rich folk, and so most of us resented them even ...

  - For Jennifer You are a wall and on you is a perfectly placed piece of patterned wallpaper that, after years of holding tightly, has started to slightly tare at the topmost corner. I am that tare. I think of ways to mend the rip glue, tape, something sticky, but all I've got is saliva and a few useless drops of blood. Plus I've noticed you look spectacular bare. Underneath you are green and smooth. I want to be more than a tare. I want to be a big gaping hole in your wallpaper. I want...

“Please to be restful. It is only a few crazies who have from the crazy place outbroken.” ~ William S. Burroughs I We lived on a terribly dark street that wound for about a half a mile. On one side was the great big Puget Sound; and even when I was little some wealthy people owned vacation homes on the sound side; but those of us who lived there were poor. We wouldn’t have known we were so undesirable had it not been for those rich folk, and so most of us resented them even ...

“Please to be restful. It is only a few crazies who have from the crazy place outbroken.” ~ William S. Burroughs I We lived on a terribly dark street that wound for about a half a mile. On one side was the great big Puget Sound; and even when I was little some wealthy people owned vacation homes on the sound side; but those of us who lived there were poor. We wouldn’t have known we were so undesirable had it not been for those rich folk, and so most of us resented them even ...

"Please to be restful. It is only a few crazies who have from the crazy place outbroken." ~ William S. Burroughs I We lived on a terribly dark street that wound for about a half a mile. On one side was the great big Puget Sound; and even when I was little some wealthy people owned vacation homes on the sound side; but those of us who lived there were poor. We wouldn't have known we were so undesirable had it not been for those rich folk, and so most of us resented them even though we tried no...

*For KaniLehua who eventually got me arrested* I remember when you said drop and we all did like dead flies. Five oh, and those two numbers told us we were in danger. But you saved us. They couldn’t see our faces, hidden there among the weeds tucked in thick brush on our hands and knees panting, praying for some more dark to cover our skins

*After listening to a drunken voice mail this is how I respond* It was morning when you left I watched, wondering if you really existed. You did. You still do, I have proof. I have the scar on my arm from the shards of glass that rained the day you threw your shoe at the overhead light. I have the strip of pictures we took in a booth at the mall like lovers do in the movies. Proof has ceased to be enough for me. I have landed hard on a rocky patch, and you’re pregnant. The wind can’t wipe th...

Call me Ishmael, call me Susan or Pete has come down with the disease and is running a winning race the doctor says: She’ll shit by herself soon He’ll brush his own teeth. The doctor, who's sick from pharmaceutical money, it’s pouring out his mouth now and the only way to cure him is chemo therapy, so he thinks he’ll shoot himself.

exploded brains all over the place a night in nineteen seventy five woman who lived in a house of mine too long before I was ever born took her pink box with treasure inside hung her right arm in the cedar tree swung her body around the thick trunk the stars were dying in twos and threes exactly twenty six words were said dug (in what was now mud) a deep grave went back in the house and cleaned the brains

There is a baby in the room that we never acknowledge. I assume she is a girl because in my mind everyone is a girl, and oh how lovely that would be. The other woman with me drags her feet when she walks so that skidding sounds are made on the hardwood floor in even intervals. The baby cries until she sounds like she is suffocating. No one looks in her direction. I glide into the kitchen, feet like wheels rolling over the wood. My mind is something new, something untarnished and unthoughtfull...