PRE-ORDER THE BEST OF STAIN ANTHOLOGY, VOLUME 2

so lonesome

I remember when I was at my lowest
I took the hand of my lover
and asked him to let me kill myself.

A broken heart earns no euthanasia
He said and held my hand, held me to life
As I waited to go

I quoted Fonda, I said
"they shoot horses don't they?"
reference lost to him, he hid

the knives and the pills
the cleaning supplies the
ropes the razors the means of escape
and I lay prisoner in his home

Hank sings he's so lonesome he could cry
but what about so lonesome I could die?
Isn't suffering just suffering
no matter lesion or lack of love?

But I'll go to bed instead of a grave
I never was any good at being cold
I wouldn't say I'm hanging on because of hope
Just because I was told

Circling Sylvia

Sylvia Plath took her life
when she was only thirty years old.

Her son took his own life
on my thirtieth birthday.

Sometimes it feels like
all I'm doing is circling Sylvia

slowly down the drain.

New York

You may love New York
but New York does not love you.

New York is a mangy dog
that does its damndest
to shake all of us fleas off.

three weeks of rain (draft)

(notes)

I don't walk the streets
When it pours
I don't want the streets
when it shines
and these three weeks of rain
are going to be the death of me

"Stormy weather" in the dark
Etta's gray cloud, a rocking chair, an ark
on the BQE, Queens-bound
We'll all float off into Long Island Sound
drinks in hand
paper umbrellas in our wet hair

I am vertical and expecting
Eye to the sky
for any hint of blue
"Can't have any rainbows without rain"
the Nextel commercial chirps

Don't touch the drops, they may burn
Puddles form to be destroyed by tires
And I'm tired of the constant splashing swoosh
The damp that settles on skin like spider webs
Never quite wet, never quite seen or felt

No, you can't have any rainbows
without any rain

former (draft)

I am too bitter to taste
Crystallized, like old honey
Dried to powder, to dust away
my sweet has molded, faded

I have closed up shop
ignored the demand
the window shoppers peer through grates
I huddle on the floor
Chin to knees hopping they'll go away

leaving new york (draft 2)

"I'm leaving New York
and I'm not coming back."

I feel adult and important as I say this
As if somehow in my depression and haught
I could claim that the scene is over, that it matters to no one
Then I don't have to admit it kicked my ass
that my tail is between my legs

"New York is for the rich and the young."

We're in my Brooklyn living room
my former Cook Street friends, here by way of
Portland, by Seattle, by a Minnesota MFA program
It's gray outside, I say they brought the storm
that kept us up all night
as I waited for the fire escape by my head to spark

Joey says doors just kept shutting
He had no choice to go
It was a sign
Becca agrees, but they have interlocked hands
and five years of love between them

I always thought I'd leave New York
I just never thought I'd do it alone
I never thought any of this would happen
and I whine and lament the shift in paradigm
in these empty arms of my mine --

I stop and smile
say
"I just can't seem to meet anyone."

We joke and reminise of the days I had four dates a week
when I wore the same black dress, rinsed in the bathroom sink
and how I had perfected the first kiss and first sway
I always was good at finding them
so damn bad at making them stay

It's been raining for two weeks
My cat ran away again
Through the drizzle I peer past fences
I hang posters, I pray for a glimpse of black
in the trees, in the bushes
I don't think she's coming home
this time, I refuse to cry
to think of Audrey Hepburn
in alley, in New York, in heels, in rain
"cat cat cat cat oh cat!"

The useless feeling lives in my hands
Paralyzes my arms, locks my elbows
My eyes glaze and my memory is faulty
"It's for shit, my memory is for shit!"
I slam my hand on the table then remember to smile
Pretend it's ok that being drunk for a year is funny
That climbing out of one bed and into another is fine
that I don't miss 2005, who needs it anyway
And that I'm perfectly ok with this solitude
that hangs from my skin like dew, like spider webs,
like lipstick dried and powdered and crushed in purse bottoms

Like lipstick
I prufrock my way, party to party
chairs bruise thighs
Words tumble from my lips, meaningless
I cover up breasts I used to bare
I should want to be here,
I tell myself over bar room bathroom sink
I should want to care,
Hand to reflection,
how the fuck did I get so old?

meaningless
i don't want meaningless
i don't want the man who calls
in love only with my spread
meaningless
i don't want meaningless
time is running out
meaningless
for god's sake, i don't want
meaningless

So yes
I'm leaving New York
Leaving it to the rich
Leaving it for the coupled, united
Leaving it for the young and foolish
Leaving it for the dreamers
Leaving it for those who buy the postcards

Sinatra said
if you can make it here
you can make it anywhere
but he never sang about how long
you had to stay

And I don't know
If I'm moving on
Or if I'm running away

clock and glock

I wanna buy a bottle
head for tracks, any tracks
and walk and find moonlight
I wanna buy a bottle
and I wanna forget your face
and slaughter all hope tonight

I don't wanna care no more
I don't want to feel the oceans in my belly
Can't I reject all my desires and complete myself in
selfish and half-assed ways?
Can't I buy a gun and grease it up in a frying pan?
Trade it for a plot of land and more silent womb?

I'm going back to bed
I'm going back to bed
Or I'm not going to like
how this ends

My Book is On Sale $5!

Universe, Disturbed on Sale! $5.00!!!!!!

snarky

I think I may be too snarky for poetry
Evolved and matured beyond giggling and rude
I am polite and patient but sometimes
oh my fucking god
sometimes I am balled over by pretentiousness
and the narcissism and the delusions of grandeur

I draw broad conclusions but perhaps in sand
the ocean breathes, reclaims my perceived brilliance
the particles realign, shift, a shaken etch-a-sketch
without the supposed permanence of ink and page

I too want relevance and admiration and legacy
and I wander into self-importance and warm too much
and glitter too much when under the spot, at the mic
but at night i return with bags full of unsold books
and wonder if I am too much of a coward for poetry
too soft hearted and crazy, too suddenly shy and lazy

Snarky feels safer

joy division

I paint today with rain
Between strokes I gasp for relevance
Where I used to ask for meaning

I'm listening to Joy Division
Love will tear us apart
emo anthem, brushes dropped

I am on the wrong
side of the river
Of the pond
or maybe just
upside down and wandering
on overpopulated southern
city plains

I face North
wish for magnets in my heart
and some sort of passion
direction
a guiding or yanking hand
I am godless seeking a sign
I return to neutral
to Brooklyn
with open yet scarred heart

I hit "repeat"

Natasha

We call her Natasha, jokingly
She's the girl who wants to
"fuck you away from your girl"
I say without slur but perhaps some slander
He likes Natasha, says she'd probably succeed.

Now that he knows that she exists he calls to her
I stand guard with my morals and my self respect
He says he's going to leave his girl, anyday now
and I hate that he's so handsome, that he's so into me
I hate that he knows about Natasha

My last love left me for another
I swore I'd never be that kind of girl
Natasha doesn't give a fuck
says "wouldn't it be nice to be on the winning team
for once?"

betwixt and between

Between broken hearts
I wander Grand Street
From one drink to another
From one bar to the next
I can't find my home

Up in the air, up in the humid atmosphere
I live above clouds and without a ladder
Forty-eight steps to my elevated hell
I retreat to inner chambers, to Bukowski, to dry, spilled tea

Between lips, between his teeth
A string of mango, a strand of black dyed hair
A sore, a bleeding thing to tongue
Perhaps a memory, perhaps that last letter I wrote

I must exist in 2007 somewhere in him
and I must project a projectile, an emotion
A stir-stick, a confusion, a lowering of guards
I must be there somewhere in pack-ratted piles
I must slither and I must stick to the bottom of his shoe

I know I must, I have, I will, I be, I've been
there before, crushed and snorted, drank and spilled
or perhaps just crusty mayonaise on dirty counters
I've been, he's tasted, I've screamed and wallowed
and I know on some level, on some mental plain
with the rocks and falls and scratched knees
I am somewhere there in his mind
a bump, a marker, the slightest hint of dna
a ghost, a scent, a forgotten toothbrush, a book inscription
in his mind, in his box of me, there i must be

but for now i wander

Between broken hearts
I wander Grand Street
From one drink to another
From one bar to the next
I can't find my home

leaving williamsburg

The bathtub drain has been pulled
I bent down with chipped nails, a girl
and raggled, bedroom-ravaged hair
Yanked the chain and consumed the swirl

things just ain't gonna be the way they used to be

All things considered
I'm doing better than if I were a man
I've learned how to apply mascara
And can balance in fuck me heels, look ma' no hands

things just ain't gonna be the way they used to be

We spent years wrestling this great city
It's calm, it's sedated, a breathing heaving mass
beneath our drunk and bruised bodies
We're grown up now, we're tired, graying fast

things just ain't gonna be the way they used to be

We're leaving Williamsburg, we're surrendering to hipsters
White flags to the yuppies, our backs to Bushwick Ave
The bar on the corner, our regular status, we're grifters
Last call, it's time to go home now, it's time to grow old now

things just ain't gonna be the way they used to be

like in mighy ducks

Well it's not a DWI but it feels kinda the same. Ending up becoming a teacher/counselor/coach because you're a fuck up and you're forced to give back and then discover you're not as much of a fuck up as you thought?

Spend most of my day looking at teaching programs. Filled out the FAFSA. We'll see. Yes, we'll see.

Ick

I can't seem to stop crying. Just sitting here zoning out watching tv and tears keep falling unchecked down my cheeks.

I know I'll be fine. I know that it's probably just stress and PMS.

If it's not better in a couple days I'll go see the shrink I used to see.

Just sitting here trying to desperately think of ways to make some stupid money.