my life is peppered with a series of insubstantial, seemingly innocuous landmarks.
souvenirs. cigarettes, addresses. jewelery. small things. harmless things.
what is not harmless is these things keep turning up in the cyclical patterns of my dysfunctional loving, and it makes me wonder if this phenomenon is unique to me, or if it happens to everyone and i'm just the only one who notices.


right now

i'm having about eighteen love affairs
inside my head


i've started hallucinating the sound of my cell phone receiving text messages.
yep. insanity.


was it only last night?

one of these days i really am going to get hit by a car.
i was almost blindsided by a red pickup while crossing rockland on my way home from class.
i was crying over phyllis webb's naked poems :

The sun comes through
plum curtains.

I said
the sun is gold
in your eyes.

It isn't the sun
you said.



i have been good,
so i decided to treat myself to partly
skimmed cow's milk
in a glass bottle.
it is so good.


dear workshop,

i am so fucked.


things seem so much brighter on the other side.

i love how my workload this semester consists entirely of
looking at art
reading novels
reading poetry
writing poetry.
this makes for lovely quiet sunday afternoons.
and all this rain.



i don't know how it's only the middle of september and i'm already debauching harder than i did last year.
this isn't really how it was supposed to go,
but being drunk is really amusing
when i'm not vomiting.


reality chex

dear chelsea,
this is what
feels like.
yeah i bet you do.
ps. it's not so bad though, right?
haven't you noticed that all this running around has melted
the fat like butter off the sides of your thighs?


the predatory wasp of the palisades is out to get us!

hormones are aggravating my sad ovary.
i sort of feel like everyone on planet earth is glaring at me
even though i know this isn't true.
i sort of feel homesick. though i don't know for what.
homesick for safety. for quiet.
for nothing. a dark shroud
on the heart.
there are days i think i've made no progress since high school.
today is one of them.
this, too, i know is not true. but it's so hard to remember.
estrogen makes everything so hard.


eternal sunshine

i want to smudge the whole city.
i want a spotless mind.


on the floor at the great divide

these last days before class
i am using tea and fireweed honey
and the l word to dull the profound
sense of loss that comes
part and parcel with four months of useless anticipation
and it's working.
i vaguely recall a tarot reading from last week sometime
that predicted my selfish ambitions
were about to come to naught and
honestly, i should have known.
i should have known better.


you can catch up on your sleep when i'm gone.

chels hotel still feels like chels hotel.
i just smudged it anyway.
cleared all the old energy out.
told the ghost it wasn't him i was trying to get rid of.
i feel like i say this a lot, but i feel like
i'm operating on several planes simultaneously.
but now, already, i can feel my body syncing
with real time again,
with the third dimension.
i am shifting.
things are shifting.
provincial shifts.
pronoun shifts.
that's all.
c'est ne problème pas.