Tag Archives: Alaska

marvin gardens

the port, black and shimmering
what’s the difference between a pier and a dock?
something about our faces, familar
something about dimples
bikes, birds and blue ribbons
all that stuff we hate to love
IPAs half empty or half full
you made me forget how to dance
and tattoos
bodies as temples
a new tongue
and hands

marvin,
thank you for the memory

love, gardens

Advertisements

alcan 2010


portraits at the house

Anda Saylor drew my portait as part of her residency at HOUSE.


fantastic piece of shit

I am a fantastic piece of shit
about to hurl myself 2,500 miles
down a snowy road
accompanied only by
one engine
and one heartbeat, dog

this morning was a morning
just like any other before it
except
this was the particular morning
you finally pissed me off

fuck it

now you can have the
fire-breathing witch bitch
I’ve always known
was in there

I’m finally used to
that hot feeling in my chest
so I’m going to do what I want

and you
are rolling
like water
off my back


a list of things I do instead of calling you

1. cry
2. cry
3. get drunk
4. wallow
5. break my key off in the door
6. fall over in front of the cemetery
7. cry next to the cemetery
8. throw my phone in the ocean
9. sleep
10. walk the dog
11. drive to the valley
12. look for eagle feathers
13. play the piano
14. write letters to friends
15. go to therapy
16. vent
17. try to jerk off but cry instead
18. nap
19. make coffee
20. practice tarot
21. sew
22. make a stencil
23. read a book
24. wheatpaste
25. write a song
26. eat salmon
27. do a reading at YAAC
28. be proud of myself


homeless with money is a boring series of cafes

I am moving to a warmer middle of nowhere. I have to keep reminding myself that this is the goal.

It’s getting Cold. Cold is not a  memory, it’s a fact. And I forget every year. I remember rage, shaking hands, damning the sky and needing dry pavement like air. But I don’t ever really remember the feeling of Cold.

 This year, just as all before, autumn is a gift and my heart leaps at the thought of stretching it down the Alcan. Fall is a season everywhere else but here. Here it’s a bitter tease, a jest.

Every year I don’t have enough sweaters. Where do they go? I’ve never had a coat that seemed warm enough. I need a coat.

My dog needs a coat. She’s loosing all of her hair. One of three things is wrong with my dog:
1. Nothing
2. Auto-Immune Disease that costs $20 a month to treat
3. Auto-Immune Disease that costs four hundred dollars a month for the rest of her life to treat

But, oh yeah.. Cold.
Lastnight was Cold. I cried in the parking lot of Wal-mart because I had a really bad headache and a stuffy nose and I’m working too much and my back hurts and my neck hurts worse and my pain medication doesn’t really work anymore and they won’t give me anything stronger, not that I really want to be taking medication anyway and I know there’s a couple beers somewhere in the van underneath all the clutter, that will at least help me sleep, but I already took the pain pills that don’t work and I smell and I need a shower and laundry and my parents are out of town and I wish I could go to their house and eat and watch tv and cry in the shower but our relationship is all weird and they won’t let me have a key and whatever ’cause some people don’t have parents so fine, I’ll be fine, I’ll just go to bed and if I masturbate I’ll fall asleep faster, but I can’t even jerk off because nothing is sexy to me and I’m too cold and thank god I borrowed that sleeping bag from Aren when I did or I would be dead and I need to give that back, so I need to get some wool blankets but Wal-mart didn’t have any wool blankets but why would they and I hate Wal-mart anyway but everything else was closed by the time I got off work and I could go sit at Barnes and Noble but I don’t think I can sit up because I feel sick and I just want to lie down somewhere warm but everyone is gone or busy and nobody cares that I’m too cold and I’ve been fucking up all my relationships because I’m tired and cranky and selfish all the time lately and it’s my fault I’m homeless and cold.

So then I’m like: ok, yes, you made this decision. There’s a point to all of this and you are working toward a goal. You will get there, and it’s not that bad. Many before you have dealt with so many more obstacles. Obstacles, you are strong, you are a lion. You are a momma cat, but you are also a bird. You are smart and strong. You are resourceful. You have been through so much worse than this. Fuck everything in your way. You can do this. I can do this.

And then I just went to bed. And this morning I awoke. Still alive.

I’m going to live with my father. In November. I’m going to nanny my new baby sister, Cedar, born in July. They live in a town sixty miles from anywhere on the Olympic Peninsula. I’ll have my cats back, get a side job, walk Kote through the snowy forest, get to know my dad and have lots and lots of time to make music and art. I’ll stay as long as I want. and when I’m ready I’ll go somewhere warmer still, hot even. I’ll go to where the queers are. And I will collapse, relieved, revived, in the arms of my chosen family.


heaven is hotter than hell

the texture of a dirt-smeared gauzy skirt
and wind
wind blowing Juliette’s static hair
and bumps on my skin
sitting shoulder to shoulder with Mitch
on the dog bed eating his late dinner
lets walk down to the beach
I’m so high on life
this is amazing
the environment or the calculator watch?
tandum mountain bike
purple stripes on the brown ducks
kittens crying
lovers whispering on the balcony
laundry flapping
joking about thongs
old man peeing off the deck
Maria’s husband bathing in the wooden barrel
Eve is 8 and married to a woman
but she has a boyfriend
and two ex husbands
the hugging/touching/cuddling
father rolling on the ground kissing his sleepy son
the young women perked in a half moon
around the tall boy from michigan
Bernardo in from berlin
is saying something about the beautiful blonde boy
it’s ok to curse in front of the children
we don’t segregate by age
learn at your own pace
the children are so well-spoken
the hedgehog is a big hit
everyone has jars of tea
blue corn is chewy, satisfying
I want to marry Mitch and raise children together
I want to hold his hand while we walk through the woods to the garden
but don’t
wash the turnips in the grass to leave the b12
rich two year human waste compost
bouncing on the trampoline
feeling like a kid
letting go
how rare it is to let go
smiling the whole day
rolling through the mountains
they refused to smile on camera
Mitch unbottoned his shirt to twirl like a ballerina
Matthew did flips for my camera
Noisy Pig on the commune
the tipis are awesome
but what about bears
the children gave us after dinner names
Diamond, Robin Hood, Lupin, Shorty, Julia, Mickey, DJ, The Dude
Diamond doesn’t want her picture taken
I won’t be able to write about this