a fight with my sister when she was 13

get out of my ROOM
you’re so weird
she’s so weird.
what do you want

Can we make cookies?
That’s my diary STOP


When are you going to write
a poem about me?
I like your dress

that’s not funny
I don’t like this.
don’t put that poem up
you’re being mean.
write a nice one i wrote a nice one about you
i don’t care


I don’t know where you went when you died
I’d like to know. I like to think you’re better now

I think of the stillness there
the hum of distant highways
the silent falling snow, swarms of gnats
hanging dense in humid summers

all your beloveds laid the past beside you,
stooping to pick up shards of suffering left behind
their first step into a violent birth of ‘after’

if—listen: there’s a hell

there’s a bluebird in my heart that wants to get out
but i pour whiskey on him; each man’s death
diminishes me. Let aeroplanes circle moaning overhead
Scribbling on the sky the message He Is Dead,
his lips are pale and still; My father does not feel my arm,
he has no pulse or will

I have not winced nor cried aloud –
The caged bird sings with a fearful trill
– My head is bloody, but unbowed
of things unknown but longed for still

May the road rise up to meet you; I am not
there, I do not sleep
I do not sleep I do not sleep
I do not sleep…i carry your heart (i carry it in my heart)

rage against the dying
of the light: Life means all that it ever meant.
it is the same as it ever was;
there is absolute and unbroken
continuity – and oh, my friends
it gives a lovely light!
it’s nice enough to
make a man
weep, but i don’t
weep, do

‘why did you do that?’

a girl I used to know told her boyfriend
‘if you don’t propose we’re breaking up’
they got married last month

I feel so disconnected

I want to find love without dressing it in white
and losing forty thousand dollars on trinkets and tablecloths
I want to keep that love away from boring dinner parties
where all the couples smile and nod
off, and no one, absolutely no one else is hungover
and hiding bloody elbows from falling into a ditch

I haven’t done that in a while,
by the way

above: me vs ditch, circa 2012