poetrynewshit

GROSS.

There are signs on the road that we don’t notice because they’re meant for others. Truck drivers and those less welcome. I’m always looking for a good phone. Haha. I haven’t found my voice yet so I copy people who sound like me. I’m looking at a holy place torn apart by time. There’s a rope and God’s on the other end. I don’t mean rope like Gross I mean rope like Golden Noose. It’s a cry for help but I’m not God. I’m a phony but He’s for real. Someone cancels plans and I call them gay. Still. How could anyone be on my side? I’m a child and confused. I have an interview for a temp job in the morning. Anything to keep this delusion alive. Help me God, there’s a Mexican woman folding silverware at my favorite restaurant and I’m spending my last $10 on a hot meal like some sort of saint. I’m a hot and blabbering baby lashing out at the people who entered me and scooted off right after. Hair still on the pillow scalp writhing because I couldn’t say I didn’t like it. Now it’s someone else’s fault.

Texas Farever

Do you know who Niki de Saint Phalle is? Lately I’m thinking a lot about what it means to conjure and how to use my existence as the conduit. There’s a feeling that floods me, it’s a mix of thick paint and the sweetest fruit. Like chewing on industrial nails and licking the lid of a tin can you just pulled entirely off the body. It smells like fresh grass on a dewy Smithville, Texas morning. And tequila with a twist of lime. The way it makes your stomach feel hot and the back of your tongue salivate at the glands. Shrieking shrills of a child playing and also crying. The relief from an almost bad thought passing as your lover sends you a voice memo to let you know they still love you. I look at bugs and I look at my mother. I think they’re both beautiful and I’m afraid. These are the types of things that exist inside of my insides. I don’t know where else to put them. I thank God for breath and movement. I. I. I. Ay. ay. ay.

I think I’m onto something.

COOL!

stuff below is from 2023. a time when I felt couch surfing and cigs for meals was a noble endeavor. now I’m a lobby receptionist with a one bedroom apartment and a sensitivity to plenty.

the key the end / blah: 8

I got my period

It was two weeks late

I found an old Advil

In my wallet, along

With the key

To his house, that

I no longer need.

He closed the door,

But I swallowed the key.

two lovers too stoned / blah: 7

I am not you

But I also don’t feel like me

My brain is getting heavy

I can’t listen to people talk for too long

What’s happening?

I’m better than you

But I’m not me

So who’s the other person

Standing in the room

Lay down and wake up in another state

I asked God to fly me over the interstate

He made a mistake

To me to my inner states.

Where’s the map?

Do I get to go back?

Raindrops in a nightmare

Ocean taught me

That a word can stretch

A light year.

Can you give me one of those?

One last one

Before I go?

Two of the most confident women in the room

And I wonder what they’re like,

Deep down inside.

Two lovers too stoned to take it there

It’s an egg and a fork

In a room that’s a womb

More fun to walk towards the moon

Than away from it.

recipe for desire / blah: 6

A recipe for desire.

I lose my individuality

in your sourness.

a forked syndicate / blah: 5

the best is 8 (written for culture) / blah: 4

one step closer / blah: 3

blah: 2 / silence is a sharp flower

blah: 1 / lil green monsters

nyc series : 9 / "goodBYE 24 LUDLOW"

The lady who gives love readings

is very angry yelling at the air

in front of her. I think there’s

someone there. I can almost

see them but I’m trying not to.

Last night, I met the two brothers Grim,

never to be seen again.

They joined forces with Javier Bardem

and made an Instagram.

I think some people wait

and some people get abused

to just speed it along.

I’ll never hurt him

I’ll never ever hurt him.

Ornette’s band waits

until he’s whole

To start performing again.

It’s nice. It’s also time

To pack my bags. And

Get on the Air Train.

Goodbye,

goodbye. My sweet love,

goodbye. And there goes

the 12th of September rain

on 24 Ludlow.

nyc series : 8 /

"missing moments"

I keep missing moments

on my camera from

hesitancy or fear

I saw a homeless man

asleep in a corner

Someone put a purple flower

in his open mouth

His eyes were half open

fluttering in dream

That’s when I write.

Mercury is in retrograde.

At least it’s nice to have

something to blame it on.

nyc series : 7 / "good now (flexible fabric)"

Right now, I get

A little jealous

Of people who

Pay rent to a

Place they rest

Their heads. I’m

Moving around

A lot. On kindness

And generosity.

My mom said,

For a girl who

Loves nice things

I fell in love

With a

Funny way to

Try and get

them. I do

Love things

And they have

A nice way

Of working

Out when you’re

Headed in the

Right direction.

nyc series : 6 / "YEAH, YEAH"

Lately, I’m looking at

women’s lower bellies

to see if they look

like mine. I’m having

sex again because i’m

in love. This makes me

bloated.

nyc series : 5 / "New York IS A SORE THROAT"

I’m curious to know…

if we had the chance,

could a single

car of people be shown

how it’s not so bad

after all?

New York is a sore throat.

I sit on the subway and

think about my problems

while looking at an old woman’s

rotted nail. There’s a

homeless man next

to me rocking back and forth.

With each person that gets on

he ushers them in with a thrust.

I think he’s doing a good job.

nyc series : 4 / "DIMES IN DIMES"

Every element of the human genome

exists in New York. I’m drinking

a strong coffee under a full moon

and my eyes are watering.

We’re going to Zoe Leonard’s talk.

Max gets anxious when the subway is late.

I burnt my tongue on oatmeal this morning

at dimes in Dimes.

It’s all I can think about right now.

It’s all I can think about right now.

I’m scraping it against my

bottom retainer to feel something juicy.

I know what’s important to people based on

the way they introduce me.

nyc series : 3 / "PIZARNIK"

I imagine impossible things

right before I fall asleep.

Pizarnik says anything without

love is an offense and I agree.

What would happen if I

broke a bone every night

that I stayed as a guest

in someone’s home?

Waking them up with a

nauseating disbelief

they are now in charge of

digesting. To do without

love is offense, to charge

with disbelief is nauseating.

nyc series : 2 / "tATYANA"

The art at

the Armory Fair

sucks, but

I met Tatyana

and she knows

Keith Richards.

I am drunk

it’s true…

We split a bottle of

stolen champagne and

there’s lots of people here

who are almost good looking.

I wonder if they know that.

I also wonder

if that really matters.

My insides are cold.

It was the LES lamb from last night

that did me in.

Planes are like birds

and I ash my cigarette

while looking into the eyes

of a passerby.

He laughs because we both know something that others don’t.

nyc series : 1 / "the girl with the broken shoes"

I think it must be tough

to feel special in New York.

Landing alone

was a stampede to de-plane.

I think to myself,

if people are this excited

to get off there must be

something to it. I wonder

if I should act mean too,

to feel like I fit in. I always

walk airports with an

uninterested look on my

face. It helps offset

the eyes. I never want

the Air Train to end. It

feels so safe in here like

I could ride it until my

plane home leaves

and I won’t have to

struggle through

the people and

traffic and lettered

trains that have colored

lines that make no sense

to me.

I’ve never known

East or West. A girl with

pink hair told me she

loved my outfit. I’m just wearing black, but I

told her thank you in a cool way.

I think

learning to accept compliments

is a very graceful skill to learn.

Her friend’s combat boots

fell apart outside of the

a train. I snapped a photo

as she threw them away.

We shook hands. She’s from Puerto Rico, here to celebrate

a birthday.

“Caffeinated and vibing.”

I wished her luck

and she did the same.

I hope the night never ends.

This way, the day is over

and no longer

illuminating the world

I’m not so sure I can

survive in.

I watch things like

refrigerator handles,

dish rack liners and

light switches slightly

blur. I sit and watch them

in disbelief, when I’m alone.

And the night becomes

dark again while the

things start to move.

And I hear the shadows

in the corners of my eyes,

like floaters, that laugh

at what a silly girl I am.

Silly to think, that this world

was going to welcome me back with open arms. More like tight, pursed lips. I've gained an aversion to mirrors. It’s all my fault.

fault