WHAT DOES HOME MEAN? : COLLECTION
HALF AND HALF
half and half half whole milk half cream half white half filipino two brown cows in an empty field driving from up north green thumb for weed, as an example blue boots velvet boots i could barely walk in packed flip flops for me to wear red string the lovers nine of swords make sure you love them fuzzy’s taco shop in tempe bag of chips means i love you spoiled milk and tea expired chai tea latte mix as a gift childhood donut shops in prescott on thunderbird on bell now end of the bus route a place of power the ledge of a balcony trailer parks in downtown phoenix ron jon surf shop stickers on the back of a car places of comfort don’t exist to me absence of people stream of rocks i don’t care tracing mistakes alter your subconscious fast fashion thrown into garbage bags sentimental obsessions magazines from 2007 baskets of ads waiting room concrete stains mary’s dancing hands i have seen the face of god and it was weeping artificial waves molded ac units replaced in your old apartment signature required fourteen days
‘til i’m home
—
ATTENTION SPAN : the human attention span has decreased from 12 seconds to 8 seconds in last 18 years.
1. splashes of acrylic paint on the studio floor
2. semi-permanent stains are contradictory
3. you could’ve left it in the mailbox
4. four sheets in different ways, changes
5. parking ticket anxiety in Tucson
6. swallowing live goldfish in the name of god
7. take off against the wind
8. broken nails bend easier than glass
9. if it’s all italicized, nothing is italicized
10. you will find it one day, your confidence
11. i’m so afraid that if i let you in like february
12. hold out on me
1. paint on the floor
2. temporary stains
3. leftover mailbox
4. different sheets
5. parking anxiety
6. swallowing goldfish
7. against the wind
8. broken nails
9. nothing is italicized
10. your confidence
11. like february
12. hold out on me
—
UNTITLED
i am the detected deliberation
an eve of the apocalypse
an agency of agony
built up like mildew on a picture frame
with drawn out maps
the word boundary written in all caps
i learned to climb your willpower in may
—
UGLY SPIRAL
the lives of a tree laid out in spirals like an ugly shape filled with memory separated by minutes or miles as you feel the misery of the present creep up when you turn 20 years old you surrender feelings of regret regret regret red red red red red red lipstick dark lipstick sending pictures of a pretty sunset from different points of time is a version of distorted attachment
—
CAMERON
in loving memory of:
cigarettes in the asphalt of a cemetery
a kid with my name barefoot on the highway
that semi-truck
weapons in the laundry basket
the red handle of a kitchen knife
pinecones that cut up my fingers
the moment of hesitation before a photograph
the way we think of each other at the same time
two years ago
poetry (back)