Nicole Marie

is operating this keyboard
Like she’s enchanting the piano
is dancing instead of walking
Trying to feel different today

Nicole Marie

is looking to write a self-portrait
Once she identifies what she’s
really looking for …
Tomorrow

__
it’s another one aye em and I’m wryting this to you
whilst the computer pumps flowers into my Ears
aNd I open another browser tab
__
it’s too a. m. and I’m lost in browser tab forestry
scanning through the documentation knowing i dont
know anything
__
it’s one of thos 3 ams and i’m appendaging this poem again
cursing theTime spent wishing i was less cold
wikipediaas a highway
_
it’s 4ore a m and my imagination scares me
im looking for weaKspots in every type of typFontfil
it’s hard to measure utube vs spotify

tied days
tired limbs
tiring winds
tires glided me
last Halloween
theres a killer in us all
theres a killer in our soul
theres a flag in your heart
theres a fire in your man
on the shoreline of alaska
the heroes of this poem
are somewhere
burning for you

and not with all the electricity in my brain
could i ever get better at something
without even trying

_

google translate can’t decode
enough of the language
i need

foreign ficciones
make me forget I was painting you
and back to every sea that I’ve sailed
I’m forever carried toward and away from you
japan. from the lush hills of my california soul
where pigments bleed across highway valleys,
we’ve been siting here for 40 damn hours
still fixed on this watercolor painting
its features more abstract, making me
I’m tired, I’m tied and it’s old
soon the war is starting,
a flute tickles
the edge of my neck
in japan. we sing to you,
dear samurai, i apologize. . .
the war had turned us all crooked
we couldn’t see what we’d lost
and like those crooked angels
we’ve got a long way to go
its something else to
help me forget about you
and your sea green eyes
echoing sounds of the shores
echoing dark days are here
it’s the same sounds that
always calm me down,
transform me
as transparent as
the ghosts of hiroshima,
echoing mute watery sounds
sounds that calm our ancestors
sounds heard only by the
ghosts of california
they say,
we’re tired
now

ears burned
like a candle cup

i’m the angel in the attic
emanating golden rays
during your screaming
every night

hoping and
pretending

this piano
seeps through
these floorboards
sweeps between
resisting brothers
and crying girls
under covers

the print button is delicious

the equation is taunting
every curve of my fingertips

gonna go in the dungeon
to have a conversation
with all my fevers