The tip of my finger submits
ejaculating ink along
the electronic receipt
No resistance
The loops of my Hs and Ls last until the edge
of the screen
Every signature
a work of art
Effortless
as silk screens
from Warhol’s factory
I do this
again and again
with every coffee
I buy
Sound trivial?
Once upon a time
many
many
many
couldn’t read or write

Cowboy coughs up melted marbles of mispronounced grief, coining a song.

The summer rain falls 
Giving me my perfect day
Blue grey like your eyes

The sky seems bigger here 
not sure why
is it just me I wonder

I watch the billowy clouds go bouncing by
reminding me of cotton  candy swirls
I imagine I can reach up and grab a handful 

Sometimes you’ve gotta
write shit to get to the grit.
Avert excrement.

After so much rain

        the sun is relentless,
        like a lioness stalking its prey.
‘
        Sweat flows in small streams
        as real as a dream.
‘
        People are as discomfortable
        in ways they have forgotten.
“
  ‘       A large black cloud lies heavy
          in the southwest.
” ‘
    ‘      The heat burns it off
           after a few drops hit the windshield
‘ “
         as I drive.

dinosaurs in office 
dodge accountability 
like a comet 

Me: My head is pounding. 

The doctor: We can write another script, I don’t think anymore tests are necessary. You’ll be fine. 

Me: I’m exhausted. 

My dad: Being tired never killed anyone I ever knew. Get off your ass and on your feet. You can sleep when you’re dead, kid. 

Me: The load of laundry needs to go in the dryer. 

My daughter: I’ll get it in a minute. 

Me: I forgot the grocery list at home. 

Husband: It’s fine- we’ll just wing it! We’ll figure it out! 

Me: My head is pounding. I’m exhausted. The load of laundry needs to go in the dryer. I forgot the grocery list. I want to cry–but I can’t and it’s caused my hives to start hiving. Who has time for frying anyway? 

The World: That’s anxiety. That’s grief. That’s shame. That’s old trauma. That’s ADHD. That’s OCD. That’s chronic illness. That’s anger. That’s love. That’s the absence of praise. That’s the yearning for a soft landing in a safe spot. 

you and i
are wildflowers
in Gods garden.

our sisterhood runs
deeper than these roots
and ties me to you.

it weighs on you
like hypoglycemia in the early morning

when i was younger
we’d just call it being low

but now the world is clinical

and full of ecstasy

tablets and pills

and acid rain to wash our fading denim

the fall of empires
feverish and marred like girlhood

i hope if you are ever stranded that you come to find me

go ahead and decay and i will rot and resurrect you.

this love is scarce
like the last sliver of light