---

loli,
rick,

pined unrequited pain like a dagger, felt into the loosed still tight lone place, sat mining in the trees.

now, absence of trees. just a vast tilting plane, easy or simple,
the unmade thoughts, simple enough (like love was supposed to be)

loli parsed her thoughts: he eats away nicely into passages.

long, tense rick
this is how it is going to be,
him not exactly just him.

relaxed

Zeus, relaxed, eats mounds of stars

like chocolates

and reflects on wives

the way a hand

reflects on beach sand.

hit me

yo dawg, hit me in tha fuckin' face
hehe
no! like say it to a girl not a dude
okay i will say it to a girl at the end of this poem hehe
well, this friend of mine got me
hehehehe
i got drunk at a bar
i got a date
i dated at a bar and then on the way to the bathroom
well, i had this dream hehe
where you just said hehe
hehe what if you just heehe
what if you just hehe said hehe
what if you just said what you wanted
i am drinking budweiser because it's cheap
even though it's not cheap, since we're at a bar (hehe)
and you are drinking me under
dreadful thunder, thunder thighs, furry, for real
well i WAS JUST THINKING bout saying i feel this is funny
and you like gender roles in such a way it essentializes my condition and frailty
hehe
into the point of being a pure arrow, einen schlangenfraßbereiter
he whose occupation is devouring snakes? no one knows hehe
i'm actually fragile and weird inside
and then i'm just like fuck u bitch i don't wanna be yr power man
O THOSE RED LIPZ
WHYY I OUGHTA
but u wanted some1 2 punch u n shit?
n hit u?
n call u names?
n steal yur money?
n make u feel bad?
y do u want that?
do u have daddy issues
no way grl
violence?
i don't hehe
O NO not me
actually hehe secret fantasy

and then o my god, she said, daniel,
when okcupid asks u do you have a rape fantasy, what is your answer
hey baby, hit me in the face

same old story

How could I ever write anything worth reading?

“you know, you really talk to much”- I was just telling him about school, sitting on the edge of the couch

and now if I sit long enough I start to feel a growing balloon in my esophagus- threatening to burst

uhhhhhhhh- im not really sure- I don’t know- I forgot- I don’t know- I forgot-

brain surgery while you're wide awake

seeing with the brain not the eyes, feeling with layers
beneath the skin like playdoh, acid options
for losing fingerprints to scar tissue, to breaking and
entering, to leaving no trace

remembering amnesia, forgetting the brain itself
is without receptors for pain, remembering you can go
blind from a brain trauma even if your eyes are fine

too many rememberings for scrapbooking organs
too much for buying a human rib or a clavicle bone
to form around the outside of your own

MY BABY

The story I tell is running away
(into the yard) with babies,
animal-dolls, wet world
wedding dress, bedroom tent.

He has fish eyes, small sticks
truck teeth, famous gums
pine needle sweetness,
and a geometric cape.

My sun knuckle shines.

MOM

Do you want an egg, Max?

i still want her

i hold out hope that
i can change the past

the future is mine for the taking
and nothing can stop me
from reaching my goal

all is true
but nothing is proven

sweat

d
r
i
p

d
o
w
n

and hit the floor

If Life Was A Boat, And/Or If We Lived On One

there is no stopping

MOVEMENT and

MOVEMENT won't feel so bad

because

it's just what happens. Floating along

out of our control

waves pushing you

and me

to destinations unknown,

but where we're meant to be.

anniversary

pale red bangs plastered to her forehead
freed from flip flops
she drags her feet on the C train floor

and eight summers ago
wet grass did cling to ours
as we sat at the dining room table swearing silently

and these days at the beach
gum between your toes
how did your arms get so long?
we all swear, piled on beach blankets
mouths big and guffawing
oh yes we'll have friends in 10 years

and here in front of me
sullen kids sink deeper in their chairs
the flour hangs in the air

no hetero

Y U u y Y U u y Y U u y
I HATE ALL MY FRIENDS
in the forest
pick your body
match it with other
searches
poor little gumpy
foil of dum
in yo if her
ill don tiinn deem her fin
fin was ketten kittle
for fur her fun f
i am
within my lungs
touche douche
broke darwin-win

let me tel yo somthng abt x
one time
he told me
he like
----------
that never happened

Morning

Today is Just Another Day.

Underneath the covers, my body sweats

I burrow, pulling my blanket tight around my body, wrapping myself like a

caterpillar in its cocoon.

There, I am safe.

With eyes sealed shut, crusty from sleep,

I ask my clock for more time.

Darkness is what I need.

I’m begging.

Please, just five more minutes.

When I finally open my eyes

(One Two Three

…and she’s up!)

I Do Not See It.

My heavy wool blanket (yellow),

And my sheets (green)--

Like my eyes--

Are colorful memories of

The Day I Woke Up Blind.

The color in my face has gone,

I am white as a ghost.

Sometimes We Awaken

Arts outstretched against pillows and sheets

We yawwwwwnnn slowly in and slowly out.

Pushing out the night before and bringing in the day to come.

We embrace it
in the stasis of the moment.

Minutes tick on
as we lay and think out what today
and the rest those todays will bring.

Then we rise up, arms over our heads and heads towards the sky
and start.

Service

Put your hand out:
Here’s a little something
to make you big & happy
and you’ll choose to not to notice
that you don’t recognize
(for a good while
but have grown familiar with
(for a good time
the person who casts
your shadow now,
smoothing out the handwritten note taped to
the gift shop counter:
“Yes there is a young woman
inside

now

i can sit

with the light on

i can listen

again

to fleetwood mac

tea and sleep begin

to suggest themselves

the fleas will wait

a while to bite

7/4 on 7/7

It’s holiday, the
pause between
anthems, the
dust behind
colors,
anonymous clan,
piled lush stars,
surviving.

in a big pile, unbelievable, not unbelievably big, the things all stacked and knotty in the way that works.

i get so jumpy, i forgot how specific you are, how reasonable i am to like what i like.


gold gold river, rush rush, not like a body. slow heart, slow legs, not like a body, like warmth.

poem assassin

b careful what u say 2 me
it might turn into a poem

Patient

When my hip broke into pieces,

bits of family drew to San Francisco

where the patient lay, her pacing body shushed.

I ate by rote. Calm nurses wielded needles.

I dreamt of castles encrusted with fish.

The pain insisted like a wife. I ate by rote.

---

clashing powers
top dogs

loli and nan
nan and bette
bette and lee

bette

nan

lee


teeny (and her)

ability to love

Small Talk is Whatever

Strangers are

ok

they're willing to discuss God

i.e. weather

the heavens, primitive selves

they don’t mind that you’re no longer a citizen activist

they only care about cloudy infinities

things felt by skin, by nerves

together, you talk about your bodies contacting air

changing your hearts; your brains; your moods;

your bodies are whole, and new, and everything is connected to everything else

you talk about what “it’s” going to do as though you’ve already established a code together

you smile at strangers because of your mutual understanding of “it.”

It’s “doing” something and it will be “doing” something else, later, hopefully.

You don’t want to look at a stranger and think

“everything will always be the way it is at this moment.”

Everything will always be the way it is at this moment.

oh, no.

“doing” something now doesn’t stop “it” from “doing” something else completely different in the near future

knowing "it" and not each other is

ok.

bodi is comparble to rhikki check google image for ref
imaghes
SO LIKE YOU NO YOU NO YOU NO YOU NO YOU NO YOU NOYOU
yes i do i do iii
not you
for for for
the tim tuin tine tine
FUCK YOU PICS
FUCK YOU PICS
lute fget MY $$NI MINE
touch him he i

LOOK AT THIS SKIN
SKIN
IS FOR YOUR TTENTIN

in this list
i wanna eat money
til i become a bldng
onnnnnnnn
onnnnnnnn
onnnnnnnn
onnnnnnnn


IM NOT GONNA TEACH HIM HOW TO
HE DONT SUSPECT A THING
YOU ARE A FAKE KING
YOU ARE LIKE A SEA-URCHIN
YOU DONT TOUCH ANYONE "
""""" " " " " """"" " " " """"" " " " """""" " " "juuss " """""""" " " " """"" " " " " """ill nevere"" " " """ "" """ "" """""" "" " "" "my french """"""""" " " """
"""""" " "" " """ "" " "" " """ "
luhv tah juus
uuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu STILL
mast

barter tender forever
barter
tender
forever
barter tender forever
is he too perfect
li is he to
he too per feckyt
put
prt
eper
pert
pert


DONT DIE DONT DIRE
DI


K


OK
FU


FGGGGGGGGGGGGGGDJJDJDJDJDJDJDJDJDJDJDJDJDJDJDJDJDJDJDJDJDJD

xo
JAMES PEEL

Noknown words

When the spoken word is Princess,
each syllable is Precious.

Then a bespoken Cyst:
nonetheless.

But when the babble comes up Nickle:
woeful we, we who might someday want a bicycle!



(mistranslation of Trzy Slowa Najdziwniejse by Wislawa Szymboska)

βίον

power out one long hour
bare-back lying, fat heat rising /
escape plans
two steel buckets of ice I’ve
plunged my wrists into deep
quarter-of-a-day deep and sweltering, the doctor thumbing
her lip, murmuring bout blistering on the
inside

/ with both braces fastened,
I’m a bionic woman
I am sweeping out entire grocery shelves
I am swimming though this rainstorm
forearms first
I am dreaming forward fast flush
of the night, of carefully arranging myself,
all the pieces, around
you

And May Will Always Turn Into June

There are crumbled petals,

and Tina's at the door

tongue sucking on teeth, walking the

neighborhood

with her accordion. Hatching plans.

There are these animals, she says

steal other animal's eggs.

when they hatch

it's always a surprise.

tina used to take her shirt off at parties.

go "wooooooooo!"

the night before i left I helped her rearrange her living room.

we shared a coke. Listened to Korean pop music.

I'll miss bringing you flowers, I murmur

curled up on the stiff couch

on the East wall-

Tina placed between two windows,

on the West.

she walked me home. "There's so much room in the world for

us".

Her slight hands make quick work

of the accordion keys.

Dirt Foot

Phone gray,
Street gray,
Dust on a lot of things, not all,
A light ahead, aflicker.
A new street. Have I been here?
Shuttered library, liquor store,
Is it 9:00 already?
I've never heard of Tycek.
Light red, green, doesn't matter.
A child, a church, another.
Do you think it's owned by Mexicans?
I should go.

A Lachrymose Hour in the Community Garden on Nostrand Avenue

When I woke up, the walls and floor were missing.
I didn't know where to look for them anymore.
And you. You've taken yourself off. I don't know where.
It's frustrating. This keeps happening to me.

Out in the world, I'd better see the great things you promised
I would. I believe everything you said to me in the garden.
It's humbling, but I don't know what to do with it anymore. Where
are my shoes, damn it, and which is the way out?

Beginnings

At this point.

We sprout
with words unending
taking them out of pocket books and wallets

saying, 'here listen'
'speak them out.'

As the flood come
with description, hyphens, exclamations
we overwhelm the rooms we are in
the cities
the landscapes
with what we have to say.

screaming, 'hear us'
'remember that we are here, alive'

An ode to running

When I run
it is like the world around slips
past.

Looking up the sky seems closer
the air rips into your lungs
everything is beating.

Legs begin to tighten
breath whips faster through lungs
into muscles
beads of sweat collect in the crooks of your body.

The run is like a race with yourself
time and space run with you
as you pass street after street
blurred faces, cars that you can beat.

Your legs are the instrument
you tune them
work them
push them
until they crumple.

To run
like the pulse in my body
is a driving
thumping
force.

Waters underneath

You stiffen
while the waters churn below
what has been shut in before.

Educated to be a rock against the floods
you stand
stoic.

Everything if fine.

Yet the tides
tossing feelings right below the dermis
mumble the unsettling hidden.

Those feelings
never brought to surfacing,
bleed out
and the embers that burn of you
die out from the seas beneath.

I wish you could burst open
expose yourself to emotion.

Scream what has been sitting inside until
it's out and you are you
no seas beneath
or tidal waves
but blood pumping
skin warm
heart beating with an earthly rhythm.

melon in a mouth
a promise in a footless patch of land
like leavening,
like an early season's air
burnishing thenceforth and flourishing
buttering up to head again
evenly to the wheel and without scorn.

Think fast

Quick
Think fast
as words line up like a shooting range in front of you.

String them together
so others can knock them down.

This is conversation they say
a debate of word clouds
either covering or pouring at the table.

Devise something
take lines from the last
revise them.

So you can be word savvy
flashy to a room of other strategists.

There is a timer
and hands tapping on desks.
You need to say something
witty
interesting
questioning
chaotic
anything.

Just don't stay silent.

Perfect's Perfect

I am not that labeled Perfect.
You are so organized
put together
how do you do it.

Each line lays down another layer
That I must be perfect's perfect.

But I am not that
I am an actor.

I play the role of the poised
the knowledgeable
and spend hours practicing
just so the persona stays a live.

So I can be perfect's perfect
even for a few hours
and then sink back into the
imperfection of patty
the spillage of my self.

The Storm

We got swept up in its tide.
A crowd of people
like waves
pushed us forward and down
in a crush.

All that can be heard our the whoosh
of voices.
Together in chants as the tide
leaps high
and breaks.

We were caught in the storm
no perserver
or jacket
just the movement of bodies
pushing against and away.

Holding our breaths we tried to be air
but the world
from all angles
was just a sea of air
and dirt
and sky
of people.

The epidermal layers

It is a cliche.

That piercing feeling below layers of dermis.

You have been shot.

No one wants to believe it.
A winged baby in diapers hitting you with an arrow.
The image taunts on red and pink cards
and in windows.

But one day you are somewhere
and you feel a piercing
in the middle of your chest.

You hope it is an anxiety attack
a heart palpitation.

Sadly it is something unexpected.

That L-thing
as the arrow pierces
1, 2, 3 layers
into rib cages
and hits the heart.

its not over
it's not over
it's not over
its not over

Deep Down

Deep Down
Deep.
We sink through potholes
in our paths
quicksand at our toes.
Fast moving we push upward
trying to free from the blackness below.

But we still plunge in
feet first
head still seeing sky
and feeling wind.

Deep down
low low down
it is fast
a sucking of the body into gravity
as you beat against it
the dirt tide pulls harder
and all you see is dark
brown soil
to breath in
gaze at
consume.

In the deep down
deep
all there is
is ground.

traveling band

gambled my life
for a traveling band
gambled my job
to travel the land
and play for the fans
and feel like the man
a sea full of hands
gambled my house
for a thread dangling plan
brother got canned
built on sand
where will it land?

sailor stephanie

sailor stephanie
sparkle star hat
i can picture your apartment
with a cat

sailor stephanie
squaresville girls
i can picture your hair
curls on curls

sailor stephanie
avocado mash
i can picture your stomach
without a rash

sailor stephanie
koreatown queen
i can picture the fortress
of scientology

sailor stephanie
pho tofu
i can picture vietnam
inside of you

sailor stephanie
crash floor vixen
i can picture my smart phone
charge in your kitchen

sailor stephanie
borrowed a car
i can listen your records
of simon and gar

sailor stephanie
california powers
i'll buy the store brand
of 24 hours

sailor stephanie
silverlake swimmer
i can picture you glisten
in silverlake silver

sailor stephanie
surfer boo
i can picture your name
in a heart tattoo

white abortion crosses

pristine fields of
white abortion crosses
harken to
population control in action
a more sustainable planet

the brilliant blinding light of
ten thousand
white abortion crosses
a tribute to
avoided suffering
negated custody cases
deciding against
incompatible marriages

monument of
transcended dogma
rationality
modernization
evolution

utopiac pastures
of white abortion crosses
bravely into the future

You Could Be in the NBA

Follow Your Dreams
Do Your Best
You Can Do Anything You Want

Have Reasonable Expectations
Give it a Try
Sometimes Things Work Out, Sometimes They Don't

Forget Your Dreams
Don't Try
There is Nothing You Can Do

don't pick it, it will get worse

It started on a Tuesday.
that means by Sunday
I shouldn't be able to feel it
and by Thursday
it will be gone.

It's funny how
when you have it
you think about it constantly
but as soon as you don't
have it
you never think about it.

the circumstances leading up

i have, of course
masturbated
countless times
imagining
having sex
with Debra

but sometimes
I try to
masturbate
imagining
what Debra imagines
when she masturbates
imagining me

and i found that
her fantasy
wouldn't have
much to do with
tactile sensations
how it looks
which positions
penetration

it would all
focus on
the circumstances
leading up to
the sexual act

Winter dance

In its depths
it is hard to imagine anything but white

But in moments that open up
and life begins to melt into something new
a new dance occurs.

With legs outstretched
and arms held tight
we dance against and alongside
ice and the remaining snow.

We tiptoe
slowly
and sometimes
slide against the white.

It can be dark
dank
and long
but let your body
move with it
change
dance

i am short on poems
i can't end with a sad poem
i think i prefer to laugh
when i read a poem
someday we'll catch up

Wind down

After the speed of the day

Stop.

Not the full frontal, foot on brake
where the whole body jerks

It is a soft slow down
where muscles slow in
motions that are replayed.

After the day
where speed, dodging
between people
there is no speed bump, not light to tell you to

Stop
and end this.

So the day moves on
in acceleration
until the hours drift
and each appendage calls it a night
and you wind down

until you stop.

no way to tell

night, yes
day, ok!
not asleep &
not a clock in sight

no sound, so :
great panels of light rise,
fall surround
:Us:
(all tiny opalescent
pearls inside)

writing most often
when the harrow lies
alongside the furrow
and there is ease
in all
the air.

address to seven yous

proud of your noisy penis too. o lady, crown of my mouth, ribbon of my tape. have a crush on some facets of you, facing away from me though

left the country
because you wouldn’t look at me much. bobbing on you all thrilled
like riding a dumbo balloon in india
over the people. aye eye i
’m a secret when your eyes upon me.

wanting to marry you, but you are just
making cakes.