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i'm curling up
with the bills, snuggling
next to last month's
cable, interest rates
nibbling my toes. it's not
that i couldn't have got
in the same ridiculous mess
as she did, but i didn't.
should i be upset if you get
to keep your home?
the red walls, collected pieces
enamel faces, miniature facade
of a cafe in paris belong here.
why would a bank want that?
why wouldn't i want you to be comfortable
as long as we're giving money to rich
people who overextended their word, y not
extend that to our neighbors as well?
i know them, but what about the carpet baggers?























)(*&





i sleep with folded pieces
of paper. i wrap my future around
my ankles, ink licks at my calves.
i will wash the sheets when i feel
i'm done playing with mud.

the moon is a dynasty. she's cold
and bright. she's not taking
appointments right now.tired of changing
minds, the cycle of prayers, once this
then that. make up your mind
the shadows on the bike path hold
every answer, you court the race across
the lake, she hangs like a pendulum,
moving at the speed of wish, still
between the breasts of a corpse.