Sunday, December 2, 2007

to take a box/ spare bitter parts, really/ seen only by weak-eyed women in Thailand/ small bits of fiber and soil kept out back by a thin rubber wall and holding even spirits out/

the salty green olive pits to suck
she'dgiven it up by then
and when I sat at her feet
crosslegged loosening my dress
the stars sweating over us
fine, red hairs goosing up her legs
since i was 19 and disappointed and lost i've made lists/ lists/ with vows to change/ to become more/ to remember what i was/ to reach a dream
today do i list: small orange goldfish crushing underfoot, cigarette fumes, stale refrigerator air, rosebud stone, black tip reef shark, iron jaw chewing
do i list: lost books, stolen panties, fucking under the stairs with gym socks stuffed in her mother's bras/ the taste of varnish under my tongue
whole years spent eating t.v.
the space between

they lean back, snap white sheet
full arm’s stretch between them
shake off clinging barnacles and beach.

cold hard water and waves
he walks, crushing storm new shells,
leaves her folding away the winter picnics.

Mary Catherine Ford

Friday, November 16, 2007


maybe dream is sick
her dress tore in blackberry briers
I running over myself for her beauty.

did i coffin her in with sex
with sweaty gold flowers and thread?

escape the fate of apes/ this is uncensored monkey sex/ I orgasmed against you / squeaky clean

she is too small/ in a crib/ with lips sewn up/ heavy stitching black thread/ i listen to her heart thunder while others pass by/ hospital doors swing in and out/

when he comes to me in dreams it is next to tall wooden fences/ i scrape my finger down for splinters/ fresh wood/ he'll come/ the edges over his undershirt