from You don’t want what I’ve got (Junction Books, 2018):

*

I don’t want anyone walking

on eggshells around me.

This body a thumb drive, waiting

to be plugged in.

Don’t rush me.

An inattentive landlord. Strained

relationships with our mothers. An everyday

sound, like ohhhhh.

I’m tired of being just a pair of eyes.

The freckles are slowly turning

to moles; the canker sores arrive.

The baseboards of the world cannot contain us.

We’ve turned into hummingbirds

—die if we stop moving.

Present compulsions: opening (and closing)

the mailbox; wiping the coffee table with Murphy’s Oil;

eating chick peas directly from the can.

Dare me to make a chart of it.

I will not judge the universe.

________

from Histories Haunt Us (Nightwood Editions, 2010):

“Self-Portrait As Someone You Might Like To Meet”

Because I like to arrange pills in patterns

before I take them.

Because there are no elephants here.

Because I’ve mentioned elephants.

I was broken–I’ll say it plain

and that’s what you’ll like,

the plainness, smooth

face, pop of blue in the eye.

I read ’til I was green again

(new and ill and envious).

It didn’t work but I kept going.

The words weren’t enough

and neither is this.