the missed spaces, the missed places, the missed times, the missed rhymes, the missed persons I could have been or will be, the fear that restricts me, the choices that elate me, the food that prolongs, the life that kills and opens and winds up and scares and tears and screws, inspires and heightens and pitches and rolls and drowns and crowns and takes hold of and molds and breaks and pours into and empties and burns.

and here we steal away together

recorded 2.2.14

(a love poem to myself, to summon up courage)

In a dream

my varicose veins


grew grotesque to the tipping point

of beauty

they burst and bloomed


something between wet petals and knitted wool

a field

upon my legs

a topographic

map of hours of pushing my body

not to be ashamed of but to flaunt

with joy

recorded 6.10.16

recorded 5.15.17