Across the highway

17 04 2018

Lenna Pierce wrote on Facebook

A dog came and licked my hand while I was crying on the street.

and i remembered one winter when
by some miracle i was in New York City
and my friend Robin took me to a concert
in somebody’s apartment
(i didn’t know concerts could be in people’s apartments)
there was a lot of weed going around
and i was anxious cuz Robin was anxious
about a boy and not being loved, enough
but mostly i was anxious because
there were so many cool people in this cool apartment
in New York (so cool, too cool, so cool cool cool cool)

but halfway through the concert
my uncoolness and the lonesomeness
of never being loved enough
lifted for about five minutes when Lenna came on stage
(aka the middle of the living room)
and she played this song called Prairie Kids
about how we all wanna leave where we grew up
how we fling ourselves on these coastal cities –
New York, LA, Shanghai, London –
and end up still ourselves, still our unloved, unknown selves

and it broke me.
Broke me in half like a melon dropped on the pavement
all my insides leaking out, like oh thank god
so relieved. me too, me too
just like you, like all of you

It was one of those moments when you just “get” art, you know?
like what it’s for,
you know?

to that Facebook post
I replied

one time i was crying and a cat did that, and I tried to make myself cry harder so he’d keep doing it, but he could tell and he walked away


Black and white

3 04 2018

Some say Americans think in black and white.

This is true. I used to.

Everyone around me thinks in shades of grey.

No light without dark, no dark without light.

I live in the land of shadows. Posing as absolutes.

They’ve smudged me. Blurred my blacks into my whites.

Making me greyish, yet not uniformly so

not enough to blend in. Anyway.


I’ve heard tales

of people who think in colors

bold primary colors

stripes of vermilion and blue

tie dye and rainbow, aquamarine

fantastical and unlikely

as walking through walls


Then I wonder, if there are people who think

in whole swaths of colors, like a painting?

in moving pictures?

in sound? in touch?

in emotions, like love?


Where are they? Can they teach me?

Teach me to stop dragging my blacks into my whites and my whites into my blacks?

I want to wake up!

1.28.2018 & 2.1.2008

3 04 2018


Something you don’t know

When I’m gazing at you
my dick gazes too



People always ask me:

Why the fuckyourmother why!

Diary of Tarantula Lau – March 24

6 02 2018

I have started talking to my plants every morning.

Perhaps I am craving Spring, or needing a safety valve to let off a surplus of pent up empathy.

When I am on the street, the movement of branches against the sky or a blossoming magnolia will stop me in my tracks.

I am supposed to be scanning the crowds, keeping my line of sight level with the faces of strangers, but I find myself looking up or down instead.



Every morning i talk to them in a small coaxing voice. Grow. Grow. Grow.

They are the only other things living in my room besides me.


They don’t leave you with much

6 02 2018

He gave you tears cried late at night

another Saturday wasted & drunk

he said —

something about a girl in a yellow dress —

a song that his father loved.

He made you listen to it twice, each time he cried

tears that felt significant

like glimpsing something through a crack in the door.

“I’m starting to love her like you loved me”

Words texted to you, months later,

as if it were an unexpected blessing

the coda to your heartbreak, a miracle

your ashes your burning down

providing nourishment to his spring, bursting through the topsoil

Glory! Hallelujah!



Poor you

Boo hoo

Always the worshiper, never the worshiped

Always the shadow, cast upon the ground, by some sunnier, better lover


What about the love you squandered?

He bought you a necklace – a piece of glass the color of mouthwash

Back when the apartment spent most of his cash, he bought it for you with

as much as he could afford and more

Back when the two of you slept on your mother’s borrowed bed

awash in afternoon light and fumbling at sex. When

you felt something like worship and seen

but you were ugly in small fearful ways

You put the cat in a box and left shit in the garage


Did you think you’d forget?

That you could dress yourself up in sensible slacks, estranged from regret

That you could step out on the snow and not think about the roiling worms below

That you could take the next step as the first?


And why not?

Why not lie to yourself and say —

I am good,

and I deserve to give and receive love in equal measure

I will not put myself above or below my lover

and I will learn to use the postal service, put away money,

and speak regularly to my mother

I am finally whole and healed

and all of that was in the past

why not?


25 12 2017


Hernia Surgery

for Sun Pengyi

I don’t care
about the doctor
your dick
but I care
if he was wearing
rubber gloves
when he touched it

As you are

5 09 2017

I like you as you are
See the light bouncing off you
like sunlight on the lake
and celebrate

You are not wrong
or bad
or sinful
You are you
who makes me want to sing

I want your forest on me and around me
I want to go into your realm
and knock politely on doors
and walk away if they don’t open
and feel unperturbed

I want to show you the depths of gentleness
how soft softness can be

I want to be gentle
and unassuming
in hope
that you might put the star back
on your brow
and step out