C. M. Keehl

the problem with being/ so universal/ every love

& every life I live is double
trouble doomed
times             the amount of
intergalactic motion          I’m shuffling
shoegaze &
gravitational waves &
maybe               it's the adderall
all lightning through me             ways
I know of          fucking
up & forgetting           my sadness
so I must play pretty pretend &
then  again         destroy
the calculated forms of  trajectory
like depression
Kant would call structure
Camus would call it quits
theses connotations      like zephyr
in june               if i’m still alive
in my combat boots    tell me the sky
will burn bright enough                      to bum me a light
of course it will                         mean I’m only talking physics
b/c I’m lonely with the dog
running circles            of the all the love
I gravitate        & offer
another tally               that marks me alive &
moving carbon                       a copy & a little
further out        from
every experiment in which
I was wrong. 
 

the only ones for me are/ myself/ mad & running

don’t be fooled I wasn’t begging
praying my knees in bruise to you
it was I who choose myself just to have the last
laugh/  jaw deep/ in dirt

for I’m fearless
childish & without bounds
with whole world more/ to gain
semblance/ in the dark

here smells unafraid
smells like teen brewery
& moonbeam release

it’s you I’m quitting/ without withdrawal
& waxing legs, I’m so done lounging around
I wasn’t entrenched/ but capricious
drinking capri suns by the gallon

I rather be bloodless before being your
cavity/a  hole a hole you’re whole aching
to be done & a house made complete

but who wants a pair of folded old tube socks
when you could be in motion

I rather run lone
savage/ a wolf for adventure
& exposing all of  my sharp
crooked teeth.

I get far too sentimental over far too many things so the objects that mean most to me are utilitarian. One of my favourite pragmatic pieces is a boot knife that was given to me after pulling a lesser gerber on a stranger. After that he gave me the double edged knife to keep in my boot; far more furtive, quicker to draw & it matched perfect the black combats I never leave without. 

C.M. Keehl is part dreamer/ part destroyer but all alien. She is managing-editor at Dirty Chai & has a microchap out with Ghost City Press. Check Public Pool, Heavy Feather Review, Fog Machine for some more work. She lives with her dog Carver. Find more @cmkeehl