grave robber

my ugly secrets

my dirty past

the darkness shrouding me

like a grave before im dead

i hide and cower shutting my eyes

suffocating on my silence

you come with a shovel

and lamp

and you brush away spiders

pulling words from my mouth

like jewels

you pocket my secrets

and you dust off my past

and you walk away whistling

california is my mom

i guess i spent a lot of time outside

you can do that when you live in socal

i mean i remember spending entire days in the park

hours at the foot of a palm tree

just lookin up and up at the ever perfect sky

and those palm fronds up there

just wavin and wavin at the sun

and have you ever walked barefoot on a hot sidewalk

that shit can be painful

your soles get branded by the sun

you never forget it

i dont know

i guess i kind of feel raised by california

i mean i miss it more than i ever missed my parents

i just hope i get to go back before i die


you know youre sunshine right

like im a green little nub of a bud

and youre radiance

holding the delicate

unfurling of me

in the warmth of your gaze

your rays

your brilliant days

you just shine

on me

and glow

and i grow

life cycle

little cuts

here and there

pulling at your clothes

with nagging fingers

begging for attention

like open mouths

of baby birds

and you shush them

with your creams and salves 

and when they finally quiet down

the sun comes up

and you start all over again




back to school

painfully shy ten year old girl 

standing in line to get on the bus after school

wearing a wrap around skirt

in the middle of a vortex

of hysterical kids

and the wind whips up

around the shy girl holding her books 

to her chest

and her hair is a dark nimbus in the air

while the tie of her skirt is loosened

by the impetuous gusts

pulling her wrap wide open

exposing her naked thighs

and her panties