i think i am in love
with little plastic needles, sterile
blues, the arrogance
of early a.m. overhead
lighting; size 6 latex
gloves that know
the thrill of a one-
handed knot
in 2-0 silk, over
and under
and over again;
back pockets
stuffed with blunt scissors &
stethoscope & note-
cards that read
like a map through

the femoral nerve
courses laterally
to its artery as it passes
the triangle of Scarpa.
blood enters the liver
at 1500cc a minute,
mostly through the portal
vein, whose pressure
should not rise more than
5 millimeters of mercury
above the pressure
of other veins. neurogenic
claudication causes
pain on spinal flexion,
comes from central
locomotor stenosis.

other things too i
knew, that i would have
learned harder
had i thought they
could save you…

some nights
i miss those mornings,
sunless & taped
into narrow tubing
with adhesive
that still pulls,
even now.

rain over the Pacific (redact #1)

Her nights were spent that summer
on a sticky factory floor;
for the first time
her jeans were too tight and sometimes
desperation hung in the lanks
of her hair like coming thunderstorms
on a sulky afternoon.
Her daydreams rubbed at reality
like grains of sand
between the burnt edges
of her shoulderblades,
a glittery tenderness
taunting the horizon like
rain over the Pacific
or the sweat
that beads on the skin of all
the lovers she might have had;
mixed heavily in her gut
with the leftover yawn
of tequila’s acid and tomorrow’s
mistakes it burnt
all the way


summer never smelled so good
as from the bottom rung of the ladder,
like sweet hot orange kool-aid
clinging and intense,
the nights stuck to your palms
and were hard to pry apart;
you could smile without asking and
it was just so much easier to look up.