From a supermarket
The supermarket of my desire flush with citrus
perfectly aligned boxes & labels as seen on TV
in my dream my brother was counting apples
locally sourced from a nearby farm it was New York
City dim-lit and dirty he made a friend
in fingerless gloves your whole family was there
and I wanted you but my brother was lost
escalators so narrow there is no currency no tender
when I am sleeping I'm more nervous than when
I am awake this may seem like exaggeration
but everything in relation to me is far away
when I lived there I shopped in bodegas
pet their cats ate egg sandwiches on kaiser rolls
for so many people this place is lonely
in my dreams it's a danger zone I wonder why
ever again you leave me thin-sliced
where there's everything you've ever wanted
you need more you need me in better quality
or quantity when it's lacking you linger elsewhere
there's a Whole Foods on Union Square now I don't
know if the Food Emporium is still there but
in a dream I am every supermarket large
and tidy abundant with space hexagonal display
delivered from forever fresh baked bread
breathless symmetry when I wake up I cry
then write from a Price Chopper in suburbia
were you happier than you'd ever been how
does the subconscious have its finger on an unspoken
pulse shopping feels good to actualize a loss
hemorrhaging money when the body can't
The Triangle
My rivalrous desire is triangular, a litmus test
for lovers. Is it so wrong to hold onto throbbing
stings if they're the only crutch you have?
What's the alternative? I google her name
over and over and still don't know what I'm searching for.
I won't touch the broken mirrors you carry in your pockets.
Is that a heap of fractured glass in your pants or are you
always this austere? Don't deny me my affect,
my dallied dynamic. We're so obsessed with the wild
vines flashing ornamental berries across the wall
we forgot about the rot. There's no eternal summer
vaulted in this spoiled body. Everyone loves a good origin
story and I've spent this steel wool time unfolding
the origami of my unfortunate pleats, scorning
all fingers that made us into cranes likely never
taking flight. My flippant love is a frayed wire,
which is better than your duplicitous broken mirrors.
Last night I dreamt I collapsed in a field of wheat,
suffocated in gentle piles. The bed I slept in filled
with silverfish. I am a woman who cannot be saved
or rather I dream of regeneration constantly—the mirror,
magnification and the magic. I asked her in the dream
if wheat was flammable and we danced barefoot
on our carnage. My affect oscillates. I asked her
where she's from and she pointed at you and when
she asked me where I'm from, I pointed at the vine
on the wall. Look hard enough at anything
and you'll find what you desire.
Free to be without
I am rubbing against the day with all
the answers they are malleable malevolent
I am rubbing against the day with all
the answers they are malleable malevolent
slippery sometimes when I am sleeping
I am most myself peace signs up I am perpetually
out I'm like so far gone before I arrive first
to roll up my yoga mat there is nothing there is
nothing there is emptiness and comfort in that
but I am never comfortable in fact I suspect
I sleep with too many pillows my sweater
is itchy bombarded by inconsequential
grievances nothing matters except that
we're warm and well-fed or laughter
above all or free to be alive or alone
the silence finds me like a scream
when you're scared and I can't have
all the answers they change if they don't
they're not the answers what am I searching
for? questions the end of the question
wheres reaching for whys whos saying unplug
lose control disconnect and disengage
take care stand up you have the right to
remain silent comfort in its own right is alive
I am churning with answers that afford
more questions questions are king I ask
therefore I'm alive therefore I can sleep
stowed away in dreams free to be without
boundaries or boldness it is so quiet in here now
it's OK to dip out pull an Irish exit, as Christine says
when you're alone you can assess the carnage
of yourself cup silence in your hand like
a small child's cheek as he looks to you
for something assess tenderly there's nothing
to do tendencies have nowhere to be
it's the only answer I need a question splitting
and dividing into more asking in silence
circling an unnamable perimeter