you said that you did but you didn't understand

the earth is turning faster than i can stand
and i can't feel it. your pupils are voids
from which seagulls fly. into a land of snow
i fell and i've always been a flake
but never unique. i'm using up my body heat
to get all of you to thaw. by the time you melt,
i'll freeze. to death,
a seagull is human. don't close your eyes.
my head is spinning faster than i can stand
and i can't feel it.

iceclouds

with a hammer made of sunlight and fishhooks
i shattered every cloud. they drifted apart like ice.
with a fishing line made of icepicks and acid grins
i caught the white whale. i kept it in an aquarium
in my room. i fattened it on cubes of clouds
and fed it to my neighbors on their july 4th barbequeue.
they were too busy setting off fireworks
to take note of my sacrifice. i fattened myself
on splinters of clouds and waited for thanksgiving.

du og meg

I. i learned to smuggle contraband
in my lungs. i learned not to give a fuck.
your teeth are eyes. your body is empty.

II. i don't want your hands near me
until you clean out the monsters
from under your fingernails. i don't want you
to come near me until you clean out the monster
that's hollowing out your throat.
your mouth catches and magnifies the echoes of its growls
into words i don't want to hear.

III. don't show me what's in your pockets.
don't show me your blind teeth. your claws
in my skin and your monsters in my blood.
cut the mirrors out of your eyes
and the monster out of your neck.
i learned not to give a fuck
but i've just forgotten. baptize yourself
in the middle of the pacific.
find a thousand god damn priests
to bless it into holy water.

IV. your body is full: you're gonna sink.
(i learned not to give a fuck.
that doesn't mean i won't care
if you drown. i'll find you a life-jacket.)

but we don't

the sun kept melting,
omniscient, against the end of the world
until the edge soaked it up
and began the process of digesting it.
a young woman with a dog stops
and writes down directions on a napkin
for us. the car falls off a bridge;
the water soaks it up
and begins the process of dissolving us.
the sun gets spit out on the other side
every time.