tonight i get out of the dark by sinking into it,becoming what i drink, rolling my neck andlistening to that crack, snap, and i swirlthis body through this,arms wide like wings spread, andlet the music carry me home.we wear our jeans with the cuffs rolled up,and i slip off my combat boots hang them by their laces on the coatrack.i let j---- write notes along my jacket’s insideto keep close. just for me. we mix warmth into mugs and this song reaches.i dissolve:my arms, uncrossing.this morning i cried ‘til i laughed so hard i cried again.t--- hugs me so hard that it stamps ache into my arms, buti don't care. the dog trots in from another room. slips and skipsbetween our legs, and we sing and forget and breathe hard,in and out. alongsideeachother.this is our golden hour:wrapped up in air gone lamplitblack.softening comes from smile tones, not the settingof sunken suns.this is the slant to which i like my body best:upright. able. warmth spilled from my cup to my wrists,and just now, i kiss them dry.
Oh honeybee yellow as can be. I love you when you’re far away from me. Our spaces hardly intermingle but you bring me life in spring though. Let the dogs bark late at night They remind of how to fight With eagerness and will To show how much we still careLove, show me your best And yes let’s Argue like there is a tomorrow Yellows pinks and purplesAll a different hue You make no assumptions And take nothingOh honeybee you are yellow as can beWhy don’t you come fly away with meWe can go extinct together And I can hold your hand forever
breathe in cigarette smoke. exhale.watch the smoke move from my lung and curl into the glowI look to my right momentarilydrift from the conversation and focus on the old musicsheets papering the wallsfamiliar."You're a bit Old Fashioned Mary"How true those words were and how I ignored themI think of you now as the smoke furls from my virgin lungsand seeps into my consciousthoughts of the time passed between us.Time that continues to pass as ifit did not exist, never existedpersistently exists. Pervasive. Like I will never read sheet music without youWill never sing.
How tolerant one must be,Symphonic pulse melody.Let me hear you, heal you, Love you, feel you.Light of my life,But a ripple of mind.As we dance 'round Saturn's grind,The powerful passage of time.
All I want in this momentis to stick my cold toes into that warmest spacewhich only exists between your calf and your shinwhen one foot is crossed indifferently over the other.
I just wrotefifty-fivestupid love poemsstoriessongsnotesabout you, to you.I haven’t got a chance;I don’t know why I trick myself into thinking that I do.It’s all up to you,anyway.Here goesnumberfifty-six…
TOOTH LOJIKSitt! Heer!Insydde thuh howss uv mye teethuhlong mye swoll’n ruuf ov gummsCan ewe see mee frumm up therr?wherr aye put yoo owt ov reech?shapng mowths to fit arown’dflatterrys frumm on hye lefft tooths leen-ng slyetlyt’words uh falsshoodBut whenn doo we gett small’r?withowt shaymme uv plehsn’t belly blund’rswe arr en a meen-tymme Nott nyss tymmefor with’n reesunnplees rewarrd mee with a speltngWayt! For it!
Dont kownt up the owursyoov spent pikkngyoor splitt endlngsshreddngs pylled in tymkeepnga groomng in revurssLuhstee blundr’d torrenss enbetween yoor seekret foldlngspraktisst keepng klosedd frumm reestraint in the downtymBolstur’d by a morawl layngwageewe ethikal lappsluttlapp’t heet chaffngsrekaal thuh lurnedd kodekksov howe to beehayv
The morning light is poisoned by a longing, for the silence of night. There's something soothing within a dream, amongst this chaos.The storm is at its peak, and I am at my weakest.Winds whip through the quivering fields of grass.And the trees?The trees cry out in song of helplessness as the raindrop tears stream from their beauty.There is no happiness without such grievance, and there would be no such grievance had I not loved you this much.
What complex deliberate-lacy language, thou artChance calligraphy facts in silver, in sapphire shawl Daughter of Green CreekGemini meadowlarkalways with clover blossomWriting the unabridged histories of the cumulus avenues the forgetful and fondest memories or as tenderly freewrite a photograph;ribbon river dozen secret fields of pinwheels endlessly rotating Fields of dancing sunshine schemes / manifestos for whole communities of grass loversmusic at the high of every hilltumbling toward daisy plainsongLet us build a map again, oh pleaseGolden moon / winged sequin solstice mistress of dulcimer vibrato Champagne something blue Ruffle-cloaked winter oracle apple-eye summer muse dream of horses (the flowers blooming from your sleeping head)and the holy mare sauntering about morning childhood starlightBlack water lady, you always were herewhen where we are was a hundred million years under water go on make way like deer tracks through metamorphosis of Northern passages to mother, the sea! Sail, full sail skygusty jubilee /hallelujah shimmy
With a slight jolt I pick up my phone. Dad. A short text is exchanged. At this point my eyes are swollen and shirt is stained.
Sweet taste of bloody in the morning How juicy One slow sip after another Stuck in this moment of nonexistent time I really can’t help but admireOh, how content I feel Almost too amused Like I was at that party I love drinking bloody mary's with you in the morning
I have had a hole in my chest my entire life. It marks the place where my lung collapsed. My tiny, infant body struggled to survive, and the doctors did their best to fix me. The scar is deep, and like a puncture it interrupts the smooth skin on my side. It’s a physical reminder of the emptiness I keep returning to.I filled the void with California: ocean, skylines, riptides, sidewalk jazz, cheap wine, poppies, eucalyptus, city lights, sparkling sunshine muted by rolling fog, jasmine, pink afternoons, burritos, windblown cypress trees, bridges and clear green water.Woven together, each of these pieces made a perfect canvas to cover my emptiness. A salve for my eternal wound. California taught me that one day this would no longer hurt. But that wasn’t entirely true.I have never known a love like San Francisco. I don’t think I will again. The city is no longer mine, but I carry that patch to remind myself that it’s possible to hurt less. The emptiness remains, but now it’s beautiful.Do you know how much I love you, California?
i read this article about how people can send each other messagestelepathically in dreamsi tried to send you a willow tree with light shining through the spaces betweenthe branches in the garden of our homeas i picture each little shape, colors of flowersa soft glow for a sunsetan eager half-moonit gets a little harder to make out your face nowso i replace our bodies with silhouettes and hope you know thatit’s us there, beneath the curtain of leavesi try to fall asleep with this imageconvinced that when i go, i’ll find you thereilluminating our shadowy limbsand kissing me until my lips turn redspringing to life inside a dreamy snow globethat’s been turned on its head and then up againwhen i wake up i nudge you, just a littleand wait for signs that you got the messagei notice how blue your eyes areas you ask her how she slept
I love you so much It's under my skin.The edges of me, you blurIt's beautiful And dangerous Too hard? Too much? Too little? Not enough? I'd unhinge my jaw and swallow you like a snake, if I could While trying to forget words like "fearful-avoidant attachment style" Because they're wrong. Words fail. You're different.
What Love Looks Like(Observational Notes)His fidelity to his priggish styleHer vacuuming with rigor counting as exerciseConjured up readiness as a bedside mannerPsychological resistance to revealing an aptitude for one’s emotional state Subtleties of Bingo! Vs. War! Success by means of resourcefulness Success by means of luck Existing for a while as glamorous Saving a seat across from oneself to avoid awkward periphery viewsStoicism Hosting a retrospective of your wardrobeConsistent “surprises” Sugar free ice cream served with a kiss Unadulterated attentionConversations with a tenuous qualityDrinking enough wineLaughing and crying simultaneously Memory for tepid hearts
Atop...Her shapely branches quiver and sway, whileHonking and jocose, Fourteen geese arrange themselves in such a way.Amid...Imperious and proud,The cobra of five heads holds aloft her scaly shrouds.Below...Two great apes hang, with clinging toes curled.Two by two smooth hemispheres look askance at the world.On solid ground...Two cows, lumbering freely to and fro,Standing watch over roots that hold fast as she grows.Opposite...I stand in communion with this small bronze tree.I do love her but would she love me?Behind protective glass, I cannot hold her or smell her,Even with occasion to speak, I would not know what to tell her.Later...We eat dinner together.We discuss this.We hold hands.
Kansas City Mother
You ask for nothing. Children sitting on your lap and running down the isle. You smile with your eyes, and scold with your mouth. Other passengers listen and judge. Your children still run, but to them you hold up the sun. You turn to look at me, blossoms on your blouse blue. I’ve been watching you. A child by my side as well. We’re both in our own personal heavens and hells. Our children keep us company. There minds in wonder encourage us to be curious. But we have grown cautious, knowing our own naivety has hurt us. We stare into each other, finding commonality. You reach up for the yellow tug with those hands. The hands of a mother pull and pick all of your children up. You are like the sun to me. Waddling off the bus, you thrust your children from side to side with each stride and fade as the bus keeps bouncing on it’s way as it does every single day.
Kansas City Father
You asked me to smile. My embarrassment forced me to flash teeth at you, even though I didn’t want to. Not because you don’t deserve a smile, but because you demanded one from me. You talked about your daughter and how you’ve been put out. It’s October, Kansas City is gray. All of the bus stops are blue. You ask me for a cigarette. I say I don’t smoke. You ask me for a light. I say I don’t smoke. You’re drunken eyes test me. As if I was lying. You saw my desire to be self destructive, but I’m not. You’re done asking me for things. At this point you start giving me things. You paint drunken pictures of possums as cats. How you fell asleep on your neighbors porch. How a large white cat came and kept you warm. Kept you alive so that the bourbon in your blood could keep you blind. You tell me that my smile reminds me of your daughter and how she put you out.
The clock it will always tickAnd I know that I will die Between then and now thoughI don’t want to say goodbyeI want to laugh at our misfortunesAnd bond in gentle wake to touch and lingerOn every single breath And kiss you oh my darling On your sweet foreheadLove is sometimes a façadeA fake exterior wall It crumbles when you fallAn object to look at but Not lean against at allI’m not offering foundation But one thing that I know I’ll catch you if you call
sand of Egypt prophet jewelkindred trance tea investigation collector of infinitieswhere was time shot?my old palkitchen tablecloth scent and coroner nineteen-sixty-somethingmy old recurring fiction of gabardine creasedhis solicitation a hue of pale bluesky zany habits embraced we have many fatherswe have one fathermy old stack of paper frenzyI see you. I see you
light May rain, then the sun, a rainbowthis is the proof I was seekinganother miracle of motheropen the window, begonia breeze and cardinal songstirs the cats from reverie and the fairies in their fieldsyou were there in my fever hours, clover dew shimmer and marigold medicineyour light through a prism casts tiny rainbows on the wall(and also the window shades of Grammie memory)I will find home in your open arms, the cradle of your smilelove the shape of a crescent moon, pie-lemon yellowthe color of caring
It seems as though life was unfair to youdealing you a hand not as shiny as mostwith shit cards and bad healthbut you played it well.You smiled through the turnswhere you didn’t have much to giveand you did all you could doto make others feel loved and needed.You lived boldly, and like a unicorneven though your body played a handagainst you,even though it bet against your odds.That didn’t stop you.
You put on your red dress,and silly socksand ran against the clock.You rode horses,and danced as a fairyand gave life to a beautiful girl.Please know, that even though you’re gone,you live on through her. And you live on through all of the lives
that you touched,in the short time while you were here.And now you’re gone.And I’m here, longing for coffee datesand gossip, and that smile of yours.And that laugh.So instead, I speak to the cloudsand tell them how much you meant to me.Do you know that I miss you?Do you know how much your friendship changed me?Oh Amy. This much.
You split me in two versionsOne after, one beforeFor every year you don't love meI'll love you for two more
Mountains and snow,and flat lands and plateaus . . .show me the worldthrough your passions,and I'll adventure with youto the ends of this Earth.
All I've ever wantedwas s o m e o n eto look at methe way y o u do.
Day breaks and my mind is spinning,more violently than the wind whipping in the trees above.I’ve lied to you.I love you, and I’ve lied.I’ve kept secrets to feed desires.You’re good in so many ways. But in others, you’re just not enough.He is more.He sees me. He looks at me like I’m the only woman in the world.Like if we make eye contact long enough, we’ll melt into each other
and stay forever.He finds ways to gently touch me,
and holds my hand in public,and cares about how my days have gone.He’s not pushy or needy.He encourages me, and builds me up,and tells me I’m beautiful.I can’t remember the last time you complimented me.You refuse to touch me in front of other people.or ask me about my day,or kiss me before bed.You never tell me goodnight,and I often feel alone.But we have our moments of good.We have our bits of laughter.We share a house, and a bed.And I can’t just leave you. So I stay. And lie. And as the wind moves the clouds above,he moves me.
This boy sits at his desk, me at his couch, cracking open bottle of fizz.he talks. Then stalksover to me at his couchwith his camera.Says I have an impulse to take a picture of what is before me but if this is my spot,what will a photo do?I can come backto be and see again.Still closer to me he walkedand kneeling before me he tookbeer from my hand, hand on my knee,apologizedas he was very gone on the drink.Told me not to do anything and I can’t remember what else,then clicked the button withopen eye pressed against the black box. Made some remark that I brushed off for lack of sincerity. Evening fell and was shortwith emptying of a being into canstossed into binsrevealing disregard. He called my name fromcrumpled heap on the floor,requested warmth be wrapped 'round his backwhile he curled himself into nothingness.I obligedwrapped in plain sheets togetherI loved every moment.
it is sunday & snowing & this is what i know of church.on saturday night all of my friends hopetheir services are canceled the next daysince it is supposed to blizzard in the midwest.& what they don’t know is that these drinks with them are my service.& these beers & tacos are what i know of the eucharist.& their laughter is my prayer.amen.my friends are what i know of holy.their texts back are what i call answered prayers.& it is sunday & snowing & i text my friendsto ask them if they are home safely.this is what i know of the hymnals;a song that tells me that all of my friends are safe& warm& okay.hallelujah.amen.
Warm freckles on soft cheeks. Our legs entwined, as I bury my face in your back.You take my arms in yours against your chest.