cuttings

for lilla

the top cut off a pineapple
sitting in on the windowsill
for weeks
and you waiting for it
to take root
not just one time
but over and over again
and each one rotting away
under its stiff green leaves

the golden pathos
stretching its arms around
our apartment in st. paul
so far across the walls
that it had to stay behind
when we left
and when we came back to visit
six months later
you went to get a chair
from our old neighbors apartment
and i didnt go in
but you told me later
how you had seen the pathos
dying in their living room

the succulent i gave you
as an anniversary
that we have left behind in pieces
maybe two years ago by now
and us never knowing
how long it would take to fade
but it grows and sheds its leaves
and starts tiny green buds
where its not supposed to
and still looks ill somehow
and every time i see it
i see the same tired struggle
of growth and decay
i see us turning to each other
looking to see how far the roots
have dug themselves
into the soil behind our eyes.

transom

it is this man
looking in his empty mailbox
for bits of skin and teeth
folded up on paper
skin he can touch
teeth he can feel
clamping down tightly
on his collarbones

he pretends to pull the letter
from the box
tears it open
and holds it in his hands
unfolding it slowly
creasing the folds backwards
so it lays flat
but as he tries to read it
he sees only his hands
held out in the air
in front of him
trying to feel the weight
of the paper
they are supposed to be holding

his hands become agitated
pretending to fold and unfold
and trace lines across a page
that isnt there
they move so quickly
with such force
that the man realizes
they are no longer his hands
they are wild birds
tearing themselves from
the ends of his arms
and flying though the transom
over the front door of his building

the birds fly north
loud and black
with wings the wrong size
for their bodies
and the man rushes outside
after them
shouting directions to them
an address in minneapolis
a name
and something else
that by now
they are too far away
to understand.

surrogate laughter (cover design)

            special thanks to cover model Ethan Lebovics

falling down the stairs

i'm sitting at the kitchen table
trying to end a letter to a friend
of mine when i hear her

yelling to me from upstairs

she says

i think i'm going to fall
down the stairs

she says i'm standing here
at the top of the stairs

i'm standing on one foot
and i think i'm going

to fall

and i'm trying to think of what
else i want in the letter

what i need to say before it ends
and she yells to me

she says

did you hear me

i said i think i am

about to fall down these stairs
and when i do

i'm sure it will hurt me
a great deal

and i don't know how i should
end the letter

what i should write

just before i sign my name
and then i hear her again
saying oh my god

here i go

i am falling down the stairs
thump bump thud

and then nothing

i am just about to close it
writing something like

i miss you.

or i am thinking about you
as you read this

but i stop when i hear her again
saying

i have now fallen down the stairs
she says i am at the bottom

of the stairs

lying here very twisted and broken

i get up out of my chair

take the unfinished letter in my hand
and walk down the hallway

to the stairs

and look

and there she is

standing at the top of the stairs
her arms crossed over her chest
tears running down her face
she says

i think my neck is broken

i can feel a puddle of blood
forming underneath my head

i hold the letter out
towards her so she can see
and i ask her

do you think i should say love
at the end of this.

forwarding

he rolls over and puts his arm
around the thick tangle .

of sheets in his bed

he kisses one of the folds gently

his tongue sliding along the wrinkles
and he murmurs softly to himself
something about this envelope

he is hidden inside

something about fingers prying along the top
ripping it open

and gently unfolding him
dragging him from his bed

he pulls his sheets along with him
he wraps them around his body
and walks out into the street

and then the wind comes

the wind with fingers allover his body
fingers pulling him into the air

and he is flying

he hugs the sheets tightly to his body
ashe murmurs something to himself
about how the words in letters change
as they get closer

to where they are going

about how he is like those words
how he is writing himself a letter
and flying along with it inside him

she sits on her porch

she sends envelopes with pieces of
blank white paper in them

she thinks by the time they arrive
the words will be there

she puts a stamp on each envelope

and addresses it to someone she doesn't know
someone who lives somewhere far away
somewhere she has never been

and she sends them there

the man flying over her house
holding his sheets

finds one of her letters in his hands
and moves them to open it

he lets go of his sheets to open the letter
and the sheets fall fluttering

through the sky like punctured clouds
falling at her feet

she picks them up

folds them and takes them inside

she walks up the stairs to her bedroom
murmurs something to her uncovered bed
about holding clouds of smoke

inside of her heart

about flying thru them every day
and getting used to it

she unfolds the sheets

pulling them across to the corners of her bed
she tucks them in

smooths out the folds

and then she hears something
somewhere in the sky above her
she hears the sound of someone
reading one of her letters out loud
in a sky she knows only by

the things that it drops

when she distracts its hands

with a letter she didn't write

with a letter about this man

flying in the air above a woman's house
a man reading a blank piece of paper
over and over again

about him going to sleep beneath the crisp folds
about him hugging them tightly to his body

as he flies

with her name on it

   

i see a woman i don't know
walking by in front of my house
and i run out grab her by the arm
and drag her inside

i lock the door

and sit her down in a chair
i introduce myself

and say how nice of you
to come by and visit
how are things

she reaches for the phone
picks it up and dials

a nine and a one

before i can get it

away from her

she gets up and heads
for the door

but i throw myself
between them

i say won't you stay
for just a minute

i'l1 make some coffee

i have some fresh strawberries
in the kitchen

i'l1 bake you a cake
with your name on it

and that gets her attention
she smacks her lips and
heads towards the kitchen
rubbing her hands together

i slip out the door

lock it from the outside

walk around to the kitchen window
and watch her as she searches

the crowded shelves of my refrigerator.

one man's treasure

   

i take out the trash

and come back inside

and my wife is getting

into the kitchen garbage can

and she tells me to take her out

and put her with the

rest of the trash

so i pick her up by the

handles of the garbage can

and carry her out

and put her with the rest

of the trash

and she looks very happy there

and i wish i could join her

bu t she tells me

it doesn't work that way

someone has to put you here

she says

someone besides yourself

she says

she cannot move until the

garbage men come

on thursday morning

to pick her up

and take her to the promised land

and then i see what its all about

and ask her

how can she leave me here

all alone with everything else

taking out the trash

every day

thinking of her

thinking of how one day

i took her out with the trash

and set her free

and i see that she is crying

and she is saying she is sorry

that it had to be like this

and how great i was to

do all of this for her

that she knew i would

and that is why

she loves me so much

she keeps sobbing those words

sobbing

that's why i love you

i stand there

looking at her

sitting there in the trash

telling me that's why

she loves me

and after awhile i go back inside

and read the paper

fix myself some dinner

have a drink and go to bed

i don't even hear the garbage truck

when it pulls up in front of my house

i don't even hear the garbage men

setting down the empty cans

on my driveway  

it is this man

lying asleep in bed

dreaming the same dream

all night long

dreaming that he is

naked and running

down streets he does

not recognize

that he has been

seduced by the pure

instinct of flesh

against pavement

pulling the world

from under his feet

he wakes up

to the sound of

running footsteps

going by outside

in front of his house

he puts on his

bathrobe and slippers

and goes to the window

but the street is empty.

he stands at the window

all night long

shifting his weight

from one tired leg

to the other.  

seat yourself

  

you wake up

at the wheel of a car
and you are driving
down the highway
with the radio blaring
the heat on high

and you

wondering where

you are going

you take the next exit
find a truck stop

park in a parking space
five times as long

as your car

and walk inside

you seat yourself
at a table

in a corner

and a waitress
comes to you

and you almost tell
her about how

you woke up in this car
driving down the highway
with the radio blaring

and the heat on high

and you

wondering where

you were going

about how you ended up
in this truck stop

telling your story

to a waitress

she asks what can
she get for you
and you want

to say that all you want
is to know where

you are going

but you settle

for a plate

of ham and eggs

expecting

   

Early in the morning he wakes
me up with the doorbell

My wife has gone to work

so i get up and go to the door

where he is standing holding a package
tapping the toe of one of his boots

on the floorboards

He hands me his clipboard

as he walks past me into my house
and asks me to sign it

The paper is blank

so i ask him where to put my name
and he tells me anywhere

He sits down at the living room table
sets the package on the table

in front of him and fingers

one of the doilies set at his place

He says how something to drink would be nice
so i go into the kitchen and come

back with two mugs of coffee

I set his down on the package

and he quickly picks it back up
inspecting the box for moisture damage
He runs his hand over the spot

where the mug had been

and he looks at me like i'm crazy
he asks what's wrong with me

why am i trying to ruin the package
he brought me

He asks me don't i like it or something
and i tell him i don't know

i wasn't expecting a package
i don't know what it is

so how can i not like it

He sits there for awhile
blowing on his coffee

running his hand over the top
and sides of the box and he says
that some people are happy

to get things like this

He says people send other people things
because they care

He asks me why don't i care
and i tell him i do

but i don't know who sent it
i don't know what it is

and he shakes his head slowly
pushes his mug away on the doily

leans back heavily in his chair and sighs

He says it's not supposed to happen like this
i'm supposed to thank him

tear open the box and exclaim

all sorts of happy things when i see
what is inside

i am not supposed to argue with him
about who sent it or what it is

He looks down at the scuffmarks on his boots
and the floor that is all around them

He puts his weight on his feet

and pushes himself back and out of the chair
His hand moves across the top of the box
once more and drops to his side

as he walks out of my house

He gets into his truck

and drives slowly down the street
his hazard lights still flashing

I watch him from my porch

and when his truck is out of sight

i hear my wife's car coming down the block
bringing her home for lunch

I turn around and walk back into my house
and i see the clipboard sitting on the chair
where i left it with one piece of paper on it
with my name on it

floating in the middle of so much whiteness

My wife walks in and sees the package on the table
She asks what it is and i tell her i don't know

She wants to know who sent it

and when i'm going to open it

and i don't say anything

I don't have an answer for her
and she knows it

She takes the delivery man's mug from the table
and walks into the kitchen with it

saying to me that most people are happy
to get packages. 

coming up

just the two of us were not enough so we made her we 

invented her out of the words we had saved like toys too 

delicate to play with and there she was and us moving around 

her carefully to avoid the eyes we had given her she didn't 

know her name until we spoke it she was lost she was in a 

parking lot looking for a car she didn't have and we told her 

we would drive her home

we asked her where she lived we knew she didn't but asked to 

let her know so she could feel it for herself where do i turn how 

much farther but no response just her eyes searching the street 

signs for anything familiar but nothing and we knew that and 

we told her it was alright that we would take her home and we 

smiled thru her at each other these thin smiles she could not see 

but they went right thru her she was that faint

 

she grew solid as the days went on she became the stories we 

filled her with about who she was about when she stood in the 

backyard for five days in the rain her skin peeling like old paint 

until we brought her back inside how we scraped the loose 

pieces off and covered her up again

 

we gave her a history like moldy books in our basement holes 

where bits of her life should have been and the holes were the 

only truth in her she was made of holes we left them by 

accident falling from our hands because we could only hold so 

much they were hers she was there just behind us picking them 

up eating them smiling feeling the weight in her gut her skin 

growing out around her bones

 

we got home at night so tired from filling her with stories we 

undressed with our eyes closed and couldn't find the bed alone 

we hadn't touched each other in weeks and didn't care we had 

her but she was wide awake stronger now opaque walking 

quietly around the house recognizing things in the dark

 

we were so tired we slept until the next night and woke up to 

nothing to what we had gone to sleep to get away from and her 

sitting at the foot of our bed saying the sun stopped coming up 

that we had been asleep for days when it happened and now it 

was always dark

 

she touched our skin wrinkled thin like paper she told us we 

had to move slowly so we wouldn't tear she looked at us sadly 

told us to lie down to sleep again she told us she would wake 

us up the next day

 

the next day came of course dark like an empty closet and us 

inside asking is there a door she told us what we said in our 

sleep how we screamed at each other how we never listened 

and only spoke when someone else was speaking and we 

believed her we held the corners of the sheets in tight sweating 

hands and we believed her

 

we waited for her stories like fish in a tank too small for us to 

move when we tried we splashed the only drop of water onto 

the floor and she cried a single tear over our dried out bodies 

we ate only what she told us we were at the top mouths wide 

open she fed us anything she wanted to and we ate it and 

smiled and opened our mouths for more

 

she ran out of tears out of food out of whatever it was we 

wanted her to want us to be and then she left gathered up her 

holes and walked away one morning just as the sun was 

coming up

 

it blinded us burned our skin thru the sheets the shades the 

windows it lit us on fire like puddles of gasoline shrinking in 

the middle of a parking lot that never ends.

when she is driving home

she sees the lights
in the sky

like so many other nights
when her father was driving
and she and her sister

were sitting in the back

like so many other nights

when they would follow the lights
until they found them

beaming up from so many

obscure car dealerships and

grand openings of gas stations

all that has changed now

she doesn't follow the lights

she knows the kinds of places
they are coming from

she has been there before

she knows that a woman
just like her

is standing at the center
of the group of lights

watching them burn out into the sky
waiting for someone to drive by

for someone to find her

turn off the lights

and take her home.

sometimes we meet like old lovers

   

sometimes at a hidden beach
at lake calhoun

where a man in a brown speedo
piles up rocks

at the edge of the lake

and splashes water on them
so they glisten

in the late afternoon sun

we sit on our towels
drying off

wiping the sand from our feet

the piles of rocks get bigger
and all we agree on

is that it is getting darker
sooner every day.

letter to hannah on valentine's day

   

dogs

bury

bones

people

bury

dogs

people

bury

people

but

dogs

just

bury

bones  

amerslan

- for rebecca bremner

as you make each sign

birds of human flesh

fly from the end of your wrist.

they flutter inside our ears

telling us

that as we fly

our wings become unbroken.

tightly

   

you grow tired of the plain white walls

you grow tired of the pale flesh on your body

you grow tired of the still grey calm that is your bed

you cover your walls in streaks of crimson

you paint your skin the color of pregnant clouds

you draw arrows on your bedsheets

you stand in the middle of it all

watching the color peel away

from the walls dripping

from your skin falling

off the edges of your mattress

you stand there

staring at the

brightly colored floor

and you feel a yawn

somewhere deep inside

you hold it there and go on with your life.  

spin

   

i'm downstairs in the laundry room
waiting for the washer to stop

so i can put my darks in the dryer and
start my whites in the washer

and i'm listening to the washer

going thru its final spin

and it's making these noises

as it spins and i feel the rhythm

of the noises and i find myself
moving with them and i'm dancing
around to the beat of the washer

lost in the sounds of this metal box
with my darks inside shaking quietly

on the basement floor when my neighbor
walks in with a basket of dirty clothes

and i stop dancing and look at him and he
just stands there holding his

dirty clothes staring at me and the
washer clicks off and my

clothes slowly stop spinning
slowing until they are stopped

stuck up against the insides of the machine

i walk out of the laundry room

out of the basement and out of the
apartment building into the street
moving slowly away from my neighbor

away from my darks and away from my whites.

thirst

   

he wakes up

in the middle of the night
and gets out of bed

to get a glass of milk

he stumbles into the kitchen
and opens the refrigerator
and as he is reaching

for the milk

he sees his picture

on the side of the carton
and the caption

that says he is missing
and has been missing
for years

he takes the milk
from the refrigerator
opens the spout

puts it to his mouth
and tilts it back
until the last drop
has drained down
his throat

he puts the empty carton
back in the refrigerator
and goes back to bed

he dreams that he

is at the supermarket
pushing through a
crowd of people
around the dairy case

he dreams that he has
made it to the front

of the crowd

and he is looking

at all the milk cartons
looking at all of the
pictures on their sides

he dreams that
he has found one
with a picture of
someone else

someone else
who is missing
just like

him. 

you can stand outside

they say you can never go home
but you can find a place

just like it

a house with all the lights
turned off

a faint blue glow
of a television

seeping through the curtains
no sound

nobody watching it

angled light from the
open refrigerator door

sprawled across the kitchen floor
but no food

nobody standing in front if it
looking inside

an alarm clock
beeping in a bedroom
on the second floor
for years

without waking anything up

they say you can never go home
when you leave

you walk down the driveway
that reaches

out towards the street

like a twisted arthritic finger

third person

   

she decides she should be somewhere else

driving a different car than the one

she is in with him

so she pulls over to the

side of the road and stops

takes the keys from the ignition

gets out and walks away down the road

walking in the direction the car was going

but leaving it behind

as if she knows there is another car

somewhere up ahead

and her keys will fit into its locks

and start its engine

just like they have opened and started

everyone so far

and the man in the car

who was sitting there alone

in himself with her

is now just there alone

the car is empty of the hundreds of people

that she had brought along with her

the crowd of herself

that was never the same

they are all walking down the road

with her swinging her keys

singing softly to themselves

and the man in the car

who was with her in the car

doesn't understand what she is doing

he doesn't know where he is

he gets out of the car

and looks down the road after her

trying to see how small

and far away she has become

but the sun is fading

the end of the road

is in the pocket of one of the women

that is walking away

and the blueness of the sky is fading

as if there were somebody

at the other end

dragging it along behind them.

next day air

i got tired of her

so i put her in a box

but it wasn't large enough
so part of her stuck out
and when i mailed it off

to someone who didn't exist

at an address that wasn't there
they had to cut her arm off

at the post office

they tried to deliver her
but they couldn't

and the box ended up
back at my door

with stamps on it

that say they did

all they could but in the end
i was wrong

now i have this box

sitting here on my porch
leaking onto the floorboards
and i'm thinking maybe

i did miss her a little

maybe i was wrong

and she is there inside the box
but i can't tell

if she's still alive
and if she is

should i open the box
take her inside

and try to explain

the situation.