he said

you are my sister

we share the same

raven sleek hair

this blonde girl she must be a

pop star

--

he said I am sympathetic to Israel

I'm half Jewish

although I believe she is unjust

I am sympathetic

I'm half Jewish

--

and will I

never be able to sympathize

throwing my life into this into the earth for everyone

will I never

be able to sympathize with torture and dying and the

want for a homeland

because I was born white can I not be

a sister a real human because I study

the history of how the world came to be so unjust and

I on top by so many small actions born into

wealth

if I tore apart the system cursed the fucks

who fucked it up this way although it benefited me

would people continue to say

someone who looked like me suffered injustice once

--

I am sorry I do not understand

but fuck

we all suffer

do not deny me that

where the railroad cuts through nowhere

a pair of shoes dangle
from shoelaces worn thin,
skinny broken necks wrapped
twice around a telephone wire

the shoes hang against a watery
sky like the feet

of a criminal,
a little lynching that
marks the beginnings
of railroad tracks

how many feet run bare
through the cornfields?

somewhere, sometime
those shoes belonged
to someone

haunted

on the edge of sleep

things can become real;

doors can swing

nails can drag down the walls

the covers can shift next to you.

you will wake up

believing in ghosts

haunted.

too incoherent to write anything worthwhile

head is pounding against the curb of central

desert sun burns my eyes and my nose is rubbed raw

i don't want to stand barefoot on the bathroom floor

was there something i was supposed to do

think i have to give a presentation tomorrow

okay

helen

two hawks circling
and the opal ocean

when the wings fold
your mysterious
      womanhood
is formed

so they can smell a rose
and write a verse
      and bring you roses
upon roses

but can they see
your slick body
bare-chested and every breath
      free

free to leave me

Thing with Feathers

22 years old
shivering in your underwear
on the pier last night:

remember the starlit intersection
that ends the truck route
santa fe or white rock

remember the warm violin shape
of the girl in her bedroom
who invites you in

finally vault the railing
which confined you to the world
(and taught you to fear the void)
become, for a moment,
winged