...apple a day keeps the _____ away...

good bye

personal crisis (pc)

it has not been fun


you let Enrique know

about my ticket fetish


the tree left fruit

it travelled from Newark

to Memphis and back


and will now

take control over this

will I've lost

or enlist methods


I'd soon forget

like how to compose

myself

...recovery...

when class ends

today

all will be settled

all will be contained

and for a few short

weeks I'll actually

write a poem or two

or twenty


Here's an idea:

...nothing can surprise me...

except for this


and you did it

oh so well

bringing back

the past with doctors

and programmers

computations

and lies to keep

me at bay

(and it worked)


I spent my thirtieth

thinking that I had less

than I should at this point

only to find the wealth

I haven't allowed to exist


(as a poet I'm supposed

to see these things

acknowledge them

because they are beautiful

and I dropped the ball

hard)


you clever clever girl

thank you

for the reconnection

of cut wires


I love you and

you all I love

...thirty...

on the day of the feast

nothing is immaculate

but this sense

that something will be

conceived like a creation

such as a poem or a song

or a life is comforting

and worried that this

might not be so

I am struck

by the intesity

of such doubts


foolishness

(I leave you nothing

but the wake)


instinct

(here we go again)


motive

(I see you standing there

ready for the take)


and all that will become

what they refer to as me

will become the reference

in itself

...two til' thirty...

under a stack of papers

I spend the last day of my twenties

contemplating revisions

not to the papers

but to my twenties

and I realize

It was written well already

...three 'til thirty...

yesterday

is creeping like

a receding hairline

(proceed with caution)

...four til' thirty...

the panic

won't set in

because the computer

will not allow it

to enter

or invade

just like the thought

of stem cell research

leading to newly pink lungs

or hairless backs

we flinch just a little

like it were a shot

of penicillin

just another shot

gun or otherwise

just another year

taken out of the barrel

anyone who mistrusts

numbers as much as I

should not be bothered

by the cornerstones

of numeric theory

cost age meter

but here we are

looking down the barrel

of a zero

second digit

...five 'til thirty...

contemplate

a smooth skin again

for the new decade dance

(it shouldn't be this tough

to take the razor to task)

always glorified

at these times

is lost youth

...six to thirty...

what the fuck

is going on here

I mean

seriously

...bats and cats...

i won't wither away

i will either be killed

by cats or bats

allergies or blood loss

so in both cases

you find my Kryptonite

and know what to do

to take me down

trapped and declawed

counting in dog years

...seven til' thirty...

in the stage

that preceeds REM

I saw you rapidly

chasing after the dream

that you missed

because I woke you

and I'm always so sorry

when I do that


I love you

good morning

...eight 'til thirty...

I hate countdowns

and all their falsely

obligitory demands.


Oh, here comes the New Year!

Oh, the New Year is here!


Last night with you and my jacket

I holding you

barely holding a note

with the most beautiful

inconsistency

those are the moments

in time that show

true passage

and innovation

We don't wear

watches because

they tell us

that we

have to be somewhere

we know better than that

we are that somewhere

and I fear eight days

from last night

will not be a mere

something