[blueprinte--d]

forehead threatens to split on a fault line

jagged haphazardry of throat

smoke plume rising from within me

leaks out

stains the room

I am blurring the line between the soft of myself and the soft of everything else

the window impressed on my eye

sometimes violet key lime sickly too much too bright turn it off

ice in sheets thrown against the house on the eastern side

somewhere I can only hear it

[blueprinte--d]

Their eerie limbs to paper

powder of moon pressing them in

Too short and too long how they are lilting to the right

Feminine in the way I want to spit them out

Crumple them

Grind them under my shoe

Feminine in the way i want to consume

Borrow of creation

wear their habits

second skin and then shed it

Reptile in the way I will birth

[blueprinte--d]

"The space between two anythings is infinity", you remind me of

that dart struck the board - what could they possibly know of piercing?

Compared with the way you were

in the boat looking back at the shore,

forever wondering if it's too late to go over the edge of something sopping wet and dark

[blueprinte--d]

If I had wings

I wouldn't know the first thing about how to use them

glittering crepe paper, these

ugly clinging things warbling on the wind

the shed skins of birthday gifts on the floor

metabolized and exhumed

what's special pulled out through the center

If I had wings

I would be

perched on the branch unable to lift off

to trust

anything beyond the earth she

would break my hollow bones to reclaim me

[blueprinte--d]

you curled up and away

like dust like light like snow like

something

and then dissolved

[blueprinte--d]

personal ads are poetry

[blueprinte--d]

what if there is no home 

what if there is no hanging tendril of green to caress your cheek 

no pinterest cabinets 

butter yellow

no sunshine streaming in clean windows 

what if there is no god 

what if there is no cosmic right to exist 

no benevolence no karma no fortune 

no trellis of gold

no light at the end

what if there is no grace in the world 

no stars in the sky 

no string of pearls

no truth to be found

no good no evil 

no pot no rainbow

no no no no no no 

[blueprinte--d]

i

know it's tired and

i know it's printed everywhere in every corner of the world but

i am prying it open to seek a truth

"what is meant for me is for me"

they paste it on slides they repeat it into boxes they don't blink at the ring light they never pause or flake

their limbs stretch and stretch, lean gold hard cherished

these are arms that lift them up hills arms that hold boxes and books touch bricks don't flinch away

eyes that reflect and invite

open open open for business

teeth always laid just so

a certainty a house built on stable point

yet somehow surrounded on all sides by black earth ready to bear and bear and bear and bear and

i i i -

i don't know how to uproot doubts, my garden is choked no sunlight resting warm hands on the ground spreading toes in soil feeling air move through mind still water seeping into it drip drop inch by inch -

i don't know how to shut the fuck up for a minute but -

i would like to know -

how does someone -

put down the vase they're in and

look and look and look

i want once once bless-ed once

to touch the world with these hands

to breathe a breath deep in my chest and feel it fill me

to refuse to spit it out

[blueprinte--d]

every single thing i have is Your's and Your's and Your's

what else have

what else am i good for

am i good for

am i good for

what else

am i good