This tree in our house
is from God, I see it
when I walk up the
stairs, he must be
telling me
something

(bjo.) The things that would have happened anyway
set in stone, meant to be, sure to occur

i don't take much confidence in the things
set before me, the inescapable
yet unseen routine of habit or spontaneity
it is inevitable that I should end up
whereever i go or whovever i am
and should i break those around me
it would have been meant to be

it speaks volumes of characer, it was
unavoidable the people i hurt or the ones
i saved, the stirring and the turmoil swept away
I woke up in a panic, feeling *****
as if my heart had rolled through the rough
and my breath were swung around on a turbine
pumping air the wrong way
and instead of blood, dirt blew through my veins--
although I prefer to think of that as
evitable
or that
soil precedes the flower
that purity cannot just be had
but found, because it only exists
beneath a tarnish and we are not
born unharmed.

that is inevitable.

well dear sweetheart
i know so far// how we got here//
and i'm sorry this all got so
confusing// well i've heard i'm a mess
but I've always thought of that //
as the opinion of many,//
'cause broken see as broken do

and darling
I have much to say for the state of our hearts//
and maybe mine was gentle acoustic cover the
the rugged twang of yours// and in the midst of
fightin' words, you caught me while turnin'
a fish off deck, a wingless bird--

but life has always spoken to me in feelings
allegories 'bout wolves and fields and men
and i'm used to fightin battles on the wrong
side, for mother's sake or father's winsome smile

and i've turned a door or two into a forest
made a **** a hundred nettles in my heel
ive heard that I may blow things out of proportion
with father njord inside my soul with bags of air

i'm begging for my own answers, for a revival
for a straight path, and I was hoping, I would
that you would, that I would, that you would
and i'm sorry I took something good and twisted it up
that i apologized for being me, and I know you said it
so long ago--not to be sorry and that you wouldn't leave

cause i'm still in your corner, just trying to breathe.
trying to breathe, trying to breathe.

did you ever want to shake out the skies
to watch the stars fall, catch one and fix
it on a ring with kudzu
did you ever think that fear
is just a gate without locks,
driven into the yard with father's strong arms--
so I dream about the day the man
died on highway 50, the road up to salida
away from Kansas City
saying thank you to the cadence of mississippi *******
star-watching till the early cold 1 am

i've been a little too ******* my soul
a vice on a child that don't know where else to go
and she ain't even physical, just an analogy for heart
but I whisper that, we can't keep holdin' on that way,
like there's no where else to hold,
cause that bridge has fingerprints set in stone
the places where god tried to take me home
and i dug in between the bricks to go no further.

but there's no difference in where I am,
runnin' up the sides of mosaic canyons
settin' fire to the brush, with matchstick palms
walking the line to hell on white hot sand,
widowbird feathers streamin' in my hair
drilling post holes with heels that can't stay above ground
on the backslide with promises hanging off my lips
gold drillbit tassels swinging against my hips
and he's close there behind me
waiting for the right misstep
'cause god don't catch but is one for reachin'
and i'm tired of tellin' him i'm ****** about his mercy
the way things are, the way i am, the things I can't
change without his help
anymore, the loneliness at local bars
when i'm sittin' by myself up
in the stands watchin' bulls
as honest as the colorado weather
throwin weak men off their backs
looking for the real challenge
prolly the way he seeks me out
to wear me down till all i can
do is stop and look back
away from the gates
kick off the mud
stop buckin', tossin'
sleepin' on the watch.

we purge with ***
cut each other with
deserves and things
we know will hurt,

perform venesection
with our mouths, divide
and conquer with teeth
tear in instead of heal

wield our mistrust
because walls are dignified
no castle ever withstood a siege
without bloodletting.

we barricade ourselves
in because that is safe
but sometimes we need
to bleed, sometimes
I need to

bleed.

can medleys
be self-aware
could i recognize
myself in all the
people i've met?

didn't have to try
the *** on top of
the fridge from texas
to suggest *** or
heavyweight championships
you laughed when I said
whiskey smelled like vanilla
and again when I took a swig
of apple moonshine and
cringed, yeah, not even
I can handle white lightning
consequently I started humming
that song by The Cadillac Three
the soundtrack to letting go of
waiting or worrying or wanting--

the chrysanthemums on my coffee
table have lasted about three weeks -
about the time frame of things that
need to go

i haunt the things that
don't exist--the things
that could have been,
i've done it for as long
as i can remember,

valued memories beyond
the moment--so i can go back
to haunt them too,

sometimes it keeps me awake--
like my head is an engine and
my thoughts the spark that push the piston

people tell you to stop like its not something
you've lived with, a habit you can break with
21 tries, i'm not trying to let my mistakes run
my life but my conscience ain't for **** right now--

these ghosts we no longer haunt--
are they things we just forget?
I've never wanted to lie for
so long that it becomes  truth,
to sleep with someone else to
take away the pain, learn to
replace someone when the
going gets rough, I do not
want these half-assed remedies--
i may haunt memories but they
don't
haunt
me.

the key is
to walk into
walgreens like
you intended
to be there--
and joke with
the cashier while
she scans in that
little 11.99 box
put a smile on
and laugh with
her because
maybe she'll
think you've
been planning
for this.

i'm not sure--
you once said
i touched you
like i was seein'
a  l  l  o  f   i  t
you'd prolly
say I didn't, now
the way things are--
i was tracin' my freckles
the other day wonderin'
the same thing 'bout myself
'cause it sounds silly but I
remember the texture of
his cuticles and the whiskers
around his lips
but will anyone have seen
me
that
way before gettin',
before losing, before
goin, before

before

But I will never
settle for less than
my standard, high
as the sky, thick as
the ground, these
morals will never
rupture and I have
you to thank for that.

I

am
being
buried
alive
by

life

A friend once told me about
the rules
The Proper Dating Etiquette
what to and what not to say

I mean, stephanie, it was right there
I told him I want kids someday
Mentioned that I wanted to get married
Not in that order

I always figured that the right
person wouldn't be                         scared off
by those things
wouldn't be frightened
by the truth

I guess

this must be the place


my father put bread inside
the ceramic jar filled with
muscovado in the kitchen,
where my tiny hands splayed
out and stuck to the counters

it'll soften it, he says

for his lack of affection
I took what I could get
i must have soaked in
Darjeeling for years
an unrefined sugar cube
too bonded to dissolve
like all children that
want from their fathers--

I suppose.

a little girl peeking
over the tile, wondering
what other types of things
bread could make soft--
her
maybe.

you once sent me a poem by
caitlyn siehl when you were
drunk
about storms and people--
the second thing you would
send to me in prose I could understand
as if you were the storm or
maybe I was but--
I will tell you why storms are named after
people.

Because I have left the safety of my house
to stand in a torrential downpour, pulled
my hair from countless braids just so the wind could feel
a bit of the salvo inside of me,
and when It rains I love to
let it in on secrets, soak my skin
till my perfume runs and I steam,

and the thunder only sets my
heart a'running, i'd hold a
stake beneath the lighting if
it meant I could capture
some of that spark

(         ) if storms are named after people
it is because they are beautiful--have you
ever seen a richer thing,  the clouds like silken
quilts, patches and oceanic framework crawling
above the mountains,
Jesus, they take the earth and throw it round,
crack icebergs in half without even trying
strike the soil and things still grow
if I am meant to be scared of a storm
then i am sorely lacking--

i have never not chased a dust devil,
the bigger the better I have faced
stood in the current and felt every inch a mile
mud splattered on my shins with grass stains
on my thighs where i have slid
across the moss and ran with
water, with the leaves torn from trees

why storms are named after people?
because they are remarkable
leave bruises like bite marks
deep and askew
that stay long after being left
if any place was weathered by
you i will return
because we have felt the rain--
every inch a mile,
running with the
wind beneath our
jackets, unafraid
of the way the
rain leaves us