I am drinking a vodka tonic in an old jam jar through a straw I made from the barrel of a ballpoint pen and it is 32°F for the first time this fall and also there is a full moon

car doors open and
hip kids still slice thumb holes
in their brand new hoodies

car doors also close.

this hollow belly groans,
not concave but approaching so

it feels my spine has gained
another ten degrees
of rotation
and if I stretch enough,
a ribcage's shadow
emerges beneath
luminescent skin

maybe these clavicles
and cheekbones are more than an illusion

this mirror is skinny
and I am not

Can't write a poem

I'm not gonna lie I feel pretty F-ed right now on Klonopin and I want to go to a party and talk to people as a different person. Should I take Eliza out into the world? What is she like there?

That's all I want to do. Something tells me that will be the most memorable, the most conducive to a union with the Earth and those upon in.

A memory sticks clear as if I am in it, acting it over and over (note...acting...it can never be the real thing). I see your face looking up and the slow smile spreading upon my return. I see it over and over. It's a muse. A demon that crawls into bed with me and whispers it into my ear. All the words I have to write and will write. But I correct them. My hand draws control. Its fingers push against vague instances of uncertainty.

That I can't ever tell you the truth on a page. That bothers me too.

funerals

I keep hate so sharp in my mouth

that my teeth won't file down,

edges rough like mountain ranges

or maybe mountain lions

when people kiss me

they taste an acid stronger than

black coffee or divorce paperwork

even on the day they lower me into

the ground I'll be snarling

in my Sunday best, a beast

beating strong inside my matchstick

chest, and I'll be chanting threats like prayers

"I'll kill you I'll

kill you I'll kill

you"

blue skies

mom tells me that

grandma sounds old.

it scares me that time is moving

thinning her bones,

'till they are delicate

like the stems of marigolds;

lovely red and yellow things

she placed on my grandfather's casket.

I wish I could fix this

remove the thoughts from your head

smooth your hair and see the

brilliance that lies there

make home home for you

as you did for me for ten years

your eyes a way to see my own reflection

your words and my thoughts interchangeable

and for the first time I must say

I cannot know how you feel but

I will try to understand

and here in this experience we did not share

please don't feel alone

let me

remove the thoughts from your head

smooth your hair and see the

brilliance that lies there

enfrentemos este juntos

a es dee eff jay kay el semicolon

stop hitting (ur head on low ceilings)
stop buying (shit u dont need)
stop drinking (2 sleep)
stop thinking (just)
stop it just
stop

Trees

There is this creature which feeds on fire.

and stores it up.

Once a year it explodes and everyone comes to watch.

No one can stay away for long,

because aspen are bigger than redwoods.

if you guys think you have what it takes to make some skrill off yr shitty little poems
send ravenna some <3 http://www.ravennapress.com/books/cathlamet_prize.php