when i wake up with him.

Mute
when did this silence come?
my languages
in locked lungs.
where did this muting
come from?

all night i sift
daydreams.  flies to swat.
they come to sit
and stay to rot.

then quiet
like birds
-caught.

                                                         smiling in her sleep.

sometimes the train is 
not on the track.

The Filling

i am full of words and bones and puzzles
i am full of thread and foals and pencils
i am full of metal and cancer and crashing
i am full of dreaming.

i am full of laughter and lemonade
i am full of boyfriends and summer
i am full of shit.  and full of arguments.

i am full of hamburgers and highways and lamp posts
i am full of acid and disco and dime bags
i am full of my family, my mother and sidewalks
i am full of my father
i am full of luck and terror
i am full of tornados and pond water.

i am covered in scars.

i am full of sad songs
i am full of 1976
i am full of Sheba and television and quarter horses
i am full of fences and birch trees and bb guns
i am full of fireworks.

i am full of fight
i am full of light
i am full of prayer and liquor and love
i am full of voices and courage and back roads
i am full of friendship...
and questionable stories
i am full of blue ribbons
and pickup trucks.

i am full of lightening.
and emptiness
and earthquakes and sex

and saxophone.

i am full of myself
i am full of him
and them
i am full of beginnings
and the end and God and guesses
i am full of questions and piano lessons
i am full of suitcases and jasmine and trumpet
i am full of clocks and train tracks
i am full of kisses and woe
i am full of strangers and sorrow
i am full of ideas and triangles and gutter balls
and dance halls.
i am full of tears...

but when i spill
i spill my heart.