My husband is a not real
He is my fantasy.
I made this world
In a sweet slumber
after drinking the last
of summer’s rations
Where I am loved so well
And kissed so tenderly
With the scent of cardamom and orange
his touch of warmth and electricity
He is a God with a magic penis
That can stop time and suspend gravity
Some strange luck loops
Has stopped war and given
me this dream life and his to share
I am day dreaming girl
sleeping in a dirt tent
if you find me
do not wake me
there are dark shadows
in my world.
I am fighting in a war
on the wrong side of a line
With a broken foot and a belly wound
I don’t make it out of here alive
this dream is all I’ll know of time or love
Drop dirt or petals if you must
We could not teach you love.
We tried but you broke us
We could not make our value stick
You had no way, Dead Boy
What hell or fucked fit frothed you mind
To such shame and depravity?
Let me give a little advice for anyone who’s mind fucks them to kill innocent people. Don’t listen. I’m glad I could cure that up for you.
It’s easier not to do
something than doing it.
None of your people think you, Dead Boys, are awesome. The people think the worst of you
You always go after innocence, beautiful little childern with big smiles, stunning women with long legs and good hard working fathers wearing blue jeans. It’s never some wacko sick son of bitch that deserves it
It has no honor. Only agony and disgust deep down thick puking repulsion so hard the people are hopeful for hell and to be there to see you in it
I didn’t realize how sexist I was
I thought I was radical. And maybe I was
After all I wore a blazer and read Virginia Wolf and smoked hand rolled cigarettes
While speaking metered stoicism
Hunched in hall ways where I leaned in
Whispering self agency
While all along believing
Male ment strength.
And only some women were strong
It was nature I said
I didn’t believe
all women are strong
Stopped by and rested on the great silver maple in the backyard.
Next to it was a dead bird.
It came to see the pups chase rabbits. Life is war for the rabbits but for the eagle
It’s a sky dance and meat snacks
“You’ll have to let a dream die to achieve another,” says the eagle. I nod.
The crows are mad. They cry and swoop about. But the Eagle doesn’t care. The pups are too stupid to look up.
I stand with a pitch fork, guarding the pups
The eagle swoops up and goes to the neighbors massive pine
To eat the heart of the dead bird
To eat the heart of a dead dream
What day is it?
I’ve been trapped
on this plant forever.
The sun rises and sets.
I am still here.
I could jump.
I don’t know if I will survive.
There is blue water
and the shore is not too far off.
I’m pretty sure I could swim it.
If I didn’t get hurt too bad on the fall.
It’s a long fall to you
And I don’t know if you will
let me stay when I get to you.
You might lock me out.
I have food. I have shelter.
I could make a parachute.
But I’d have to cut down this plant though,
the thing that sustains me.
Here I have a nice little nest made of leaves.
I have blankets of braided orchids
and the fruit from the plant to eat.
The seeds have proteins and fats.
The fireflies come and dance in the evening.
It is peaceful. It is beautiful. The sea calls though.
The shore is long and behind it is a forest.
Thick trees trunks wider than my reach.
Wider than ten of me.
There is a world that I do not know
that you are in.
I see the smoke from your fire
and flick of light in the dying day
I dream someday our lands will meet
Someday I may warm myself by your side
You have been in your head too much
this doesn’t work for you
You are a doer. You must stay busy and engaged
Right now, you are not. You are tired and in pain
Your mouth is dry, your skin is dry. It is cold outside
…You’re an idiot.
I’m bored of this already
This needs to be erased
I need to go for a walk
Off a cliff. dive into a dream of cold water
I want summer in Lake Superior
I want her freedom
Her sweet clean air
It is winter. White and dirty and grey
I slept like shit again last night.
My neck hurts. Blah
That is what I feel like
Blah blah blah
I am wasting my living
I am giving it all, for what I can’t grass anymore
The greatest painter to ever paint
Made sure to fuzzy the line
Where one ended and another began
That is what I am trying with your love
This is not the poem I want to write
The poem I want to write is about taking
care of one another
But that poem is boring and nice
It is too polite for us
What the hell are we doing?
Why are we not fucking?
Must I beg for your cock in my mouth?
You are doing dishes and Im pretty
sure you have fever too
Both of the girls do.
I can barely stand. We are dizzy
And puking and coughing and shitting
But you are doing the dishes
You come and check on us
bring water from the other side
of the universe and those cool magic pills.
Yesterday I went to store
and got a bunch of groceries.
you were sleeping and had a fever.
Then I cleaned.
Brought you some pills
And helped the girls.
We take care of each other.
When people complain about being married
I want to say, have you tried sucking his dick?
Maybe if you give it all
maybe the someone else
will give it all back to you