confused by the trees

i follow the eyes
of the fox

into the infinite
i become

I don’t want to swipe right
I don’t want to meet someone new
I only want you

The universe loves a bad joke.

Was i a stepping
stone? A little r
                            o
                             c
                           k
                             to get where you
                        are now? Perhaps
                        that must have been
                        fun...
                             ­                                 Maybe our definition
                                                      ­        of fun do not compare
                                                         ­     to be the same now -
                                                                ­                                                          
I used to have fun when
you would be around,
maybe for you too...
but not in the same
way that I found.

Beauty is a lie perpetrated by the eyes of the beholder.

What is gender?
What is a girl?
What is a boy?
What makes these people different?
What is pink?
What is blue?
What makes these colors different?
What is it?
Clothes?
Style?
Hair?
Chests?
Pants?
Skirts?
Dresses?
Suits?
­What makes these people different?
You say:
‘Your chromosomes’
But what about ‘x’
What about ‘xxy’
What about ‘xyy’
What about ‘xxxy’
What do you say about these?
Someones genitalia doesn't make them
Someone's chromosomes doesn't make them
What makes a person a person
Is the person.

I used to read your poems
but lately you don't write
you're silent and aloof
you know that isn't right.
You can't close a door once opened
you can't abolish all your dreams
you're a poet of the heart
mustn't fall apart at the seams.
Say what you can in words
they speak the message true
spoken from the heart
the poems will see you through.
A hermit's not your style
a recluse, you are not
never give up writing
of things that you've been taught.
I used to read your poems
I'd read them once again
if you would send them out
(this one's from a poet friend)

I only want to be alone
I want my wounds open to the bone

I never want to use my mouth
to talk, to laugh, to scream or shout

I want to be quiet, I want to be small
I don't want to be known or remembered at all

I want pink wings and faerie-like grace
I want to be able to hide my face

I want to disappear into the night
I want her to take me with one clean bite

They said,
"The most beautiful art is
looking into someone's eyes
when they talk about the
things they love."
And I said,
"Or looking at someone you love.
Or maybe, just maybe,
by looking at the mirror
is the most beautiful art
anyone should appreciate."

I mistook you for a glass,
When I poured all my love
Into you

In the morning of yesterday
There were strangers talking in my garden, heads close together
Intent on each other, in whispers
I heard them say your name
And the earth shifted a little...the season moved forward a little
And I heard myself sigh like a dreamer

Harvesting hearts and marigolds
The thief steals in when we least expect it, masqued and lithe
Wanting an exploration of Souls
Oblivious, if we’re generous
But still the knife cuts deeply...the blade turns without intention
And I’m bleeding out like a Madrigal

I loved you too much in the Mirrorfall
I found you in the violin’s shadow
Dust and star tears are my witnesses
I love you
My joy and my abyss

Was it Witchcraft?
  Magic?
We weren't sure.
  We were just children.
    But we were witness to a manipulation of all things that abound.  There was influences on objects of nature.  Emanations of psychic force.
     Like on cold nights where an ethereal spirit box would quietly hum as it breathed warm air into our play room. (turned out to be a heater).
   Or where magically an upright coffin full of tasty morsels stood at the ready for hungry tummies. (Later we recognized it as a refrigerator).
   Where mysteriously cold water turned hot, spilling from an orifice  into a cauldron where upon us kids were placed like happy little guppies. (this we later knew as a bathtub).
   Was it super natural powers,
magic,
sorcery?
  Back then it was.
Because me and sister were just little kids.
And the SHE in control of all these magical powers?
  She was our mother.
      
             Happy  Mother's  Day

She said "I'm falling in love."

I said "I'm falling apart."

So many poems
and stories
have gone unwritten
due to fear of not being good enough

If there comes a time
that you might lose me
Find me in my poetry

The sweat of an orange
upon her upper lip,
melts into her skin

This mouth hungers
This heart yearns

They both burn
from their
ardent desire for her

You are the abundance of stars only visible to the dreamer in the wake of night

The sun and its companions as they glow to shine a light on the surface of your skin

You are the mischief that forms the toothy grin on the face of a child’s curiosity

The everlasting glow on their faces as they question the world around them

And I am lost in translation, confused, amused and somewhat enchanted

To you I am the clouds that hide away your blue skies

But to me I am the ones that shield you from the glare of a jealous sun

And to each other we are foreign, bordered and misunderstood

Lost in translation I’m waiting for you to understand ,
That to you; you’re nothing, but to me; you’re my dreamland

your name is
forbidden in
my mouth
or in my heart
because when
i think about
you;

i'll cry a little more,
hurt a little stronger
love a little softer
because you no longer
make me feel sober

i'm drunk on the
memory of you

I love him
I tell myself
I know that
We will be together forever
I don’t believe that
We could be separated
My thoughts tell me that
He’s the love of my life
Sometimes my heart lies and says
I could live an eternity
Without him
Like my friends say
“We’re perfect for each other”
And you can’t tell me
He’s not the one.

Now read from bottom to top.

i spend my days
pouring myself into the cups of others

only to find that
when it’s time for myself
to take a sip

all that’s left
in my cup
is the remainder of a girl
who gave too much