I switched to Apple
after such staticky reception
meaning I’m anxious
for the bite– the teeth-
piercing, tedious call,
tiny wires inside me
moaning your song–
which is to say I never
was an android in search
of blue requiems and
we’ll say I love you
and it’ll still sing.
(originally published in The Los Angeles Review of Los Angeles, Summer 2019)
Sometimes I say what I don’t mean.
There is an algorithm which can make me forget;
the others remind me to remember.
Your action has been undone. As if my actions
needed a separate undoing– I did not expect you,
with your raven hair, to perch our thousand
miles, thousand days to bottle time
and cast to sea, a folded note to be read
by a stranger at shore. Here, I am a knot
bound to be undone, tethered to a battered shoe,
and in the sprint, wind coarsens your hair.
In the cold we move closer and closer until the breathing
is stale and fogs my car’s windows, the outside world
turned gray. Confusing a fluorescent lightbulb for the moon,
I would risk one more rejection to bring you even nearer,
past the point of no return.
(Originally published in Corium Magazine, Spring 2016)
Los Angeles was a chance, a retreat.
The army of cars sounded like firecrackers,
The rain somehow escaped.
The hideout was flight: the highway
a drug, a prison.
California was injured– a people debris.
The mountain was a wounded relief–
the face of thunderstorms.
(originally published in 3by3by3 – October 18, 2015)