I will sing you Spanish loves songs at 2:20 in the morning
when there are not enough words in the English language
to describe the way the lights hit your eyes
when you are trying not to smile
and I will sing you to
songs made of sounds
that I have heard in the forests,
bird chirps and the the whispering of evergreen trees
as they tell stories to the saplings beneath their boughs

and I will sing to you the things I have heard
in the water that flows over the rocks in the mountain streams of the Sierras

and I will sing to you the words the rushes told me
as I walked amongst them on summer days

because language
fails me

when it comes to describing
how you hide your smile behind your thumb

because I don’t think those words
have been invented yet

because they are too beautiful for any human to hear
and I cannot help but wonder

if I read this poem to your dog
if he would understand it better than I
because his ears pick up a different frequency than mine
and I wonder if the dolphins below the sea
can hear me write this
and hear the songs I wish I could sing for you.


If I were a surgeon I would amputate my left arm,
and I would give you the bones
to use as spare parts for when your own feel weak
and I would give you my hand
to hold for when you are walking alone on a crowded street,
and I would give you my fingers to juggle your spare cigarettes
for when you need a moment to breathe
and I would give you the love line
from the palm of my left hand
to wear as a necklace
for when you need a reminder
of the way I kissed your collarbones.

Donated books.

If you’re in the Sacramento,  CA area be sure to stop by the Lavender Library in 21st Street. I just donated a copy of “I Forgot How to Write When They Diagnosed Me ” and “Toast is Just Bread That Put Up a Fight” to them. They’re a great little LGBT library in Sac, give them a look,  don’t just take my word for it! 




I met a girl
with “queer”
tattooed across her abdomen,
and when I drug my fingers across it,
she asked me if I was a lesbian,
and I gagged on my tongue
when I tried to say no
because I’ve been writing all these poems
about caressing her hipbones
and cheekbones,
so instead I asked her
to stick and poke a new tattoo
across my collarbones,
and so she licked me
and bit me,
leaving a hickie
in the shape of her heart
on my breast.