No matter our race or color or creed
or way of life or species or breed.
No matter our height or girth or scent,
we all hate Donald because Donald is a ******* ****.

I'd give up used bookstores, libraries,
old love, and free chai tea lattes
to be alone with you.


All of the things I once believe caused feeling—
Just moments and memories

in a great spectrum of
*"I forgot—just being happy. being happy.

So I prioritize
and keep going,
close my eyes.
close your eyes."

You got better, I got bitter.

The second could have been three times as long, but you'll always remember the first.

Of back rows, front rows—
Broken eye contact—Day dreams—
And quantum physics.

"You don't think it's bad, do you? That I keep
Finding myself in the people
I find in my bed on Saturday morning?"

and when you

double space your lines apart

(equivalent to an inch

on the textbook you only use for

a surface)

there will always be a soft spot

in my heart

that i want you to call home

How lovely
the gardener thought, planting
the rose and the daisy
next to each other

So they grew
spring to summer - shared
the sun and the rain

The rose kept distance, aware
of the damage her thorns could bring
The daisy kept distance, hiding
her petals love and love-me-not fortunes

Came the autumn with its breeze
the flowers intertwined roots
to keep warm - with no distance
now they struggled to share
the sun and the rain

So an agreement became
the rose basked in the sun
the daisy drank the rain

Came spring, parched or drowned
neither was able to grow again