Jellyfish ripen
until they
wash up 
on the beach
looking like
polka dots.
They’re the
same pale
peach, pink 
color I
see when
I close my
eyes & stare
at the sun.

It’s a shade
made even
warmer 
in its
contrast with
the grey green
of the 
strip of 
sand where 
people find them
& pick them up.
I watch a
boy puncture
one with
a set of keys
& drain it
like he’s
shotgunning
a can
of beer.

I don’t drink
anymore.
The density 
of my
molecules
increases as
my mood
declines.
I can
easily become
so heavy
I fall
through the floor
or sink
to the bottom
of the pool.

I’m delicate.
The aphids 
in my 
eyes are 
agitated by 
the immensity 
of the bitchy 
blue sky.
The more 
I rub the 
more I see.
She hovers
overhead
insisting that
nothing
is broken.
She naturalizes 
the acid smell
of the
fatally
wounded Atlantic.

It’s a rotting place
but I’m
still in love
with it.
The follicles 
sprouting 
on the 
legs & chest 
are tiny 
spider legs 
peaking through 
the skin. 
The mouth
is a 
glorified
drain for
the mind &
for four
dollars you can
add a dollop
of caviar
to anything.

Time stopped
at the
millenia & 
was replaced
with dream
sequences.
This one
happens to 
be mine
& in it
I apply
exogenous
hormones using
my tongue.
I spread them
all over
my body like
a cat.
They‘re 
a solvent
that loosens
the adhesives
binding
soul to body.

The way 
I have learned
to live
is lying on 
my back 
in the 
center of
a circular 
swimming pool 
on an 
inflatable raft 
somewhere in
the high 
desert 
rotating slowly.
The wind 
roars &
tears at the
palm trees
looming above.
They bend
so far 
horizontally
it seems
impossible they 
don’t break.
When the wind
finally dies 
down at 
dusk 
I’ll watch
the bats 
as they appear
& carve
up the
orange air
with their wings.

They called 
back &
asked if 
I wanted the 
tracheal shave.

*

Maybe this is 
a useful
intuition pump:
a night
with no stars.
A milk-colored 
marble
hammered into
the ceiling.

*

Have you 
tried
unplugging it,
waiting
3 whole seconds,
& plugging
it back in? 

I don’t want 
an echo of my
mother’s face.
I want 
something 
entirely my own.

*

Guest assistance
needed 
in the
pain & 
sleep department. 

The blue side
is better.
Both heavier
& softer
dotted 
with small 
moments 
of sadness.

*

I wandered 
the cement 
plains of 
Home Depot
craving 
more holes 
in my body.

*

How many 
times 
are you born?
I invented
people 
so I could 
become them.
My voice 
climbing higher 
& higher 
up the neck.

Jailbreak 
this karaoke 
machine 
so we 
can sing the
songs we know.