A gift from the sun, sand and shadows
Moonlight and Joshua stars, of course
A tattoo, a brown dot, on my ring finger
On my left hand, no less
Dec 28, 2022
Dec 28, 2022 at 2:28 PM UTC
We never wanted a house, the kitchen, the foyer. We could give barely a **** really. We just wanted a room, a desk, ceiling to floor bookshelves filled with books and windows that overlooked tops of large oak trees. We wanted the sunlight all morning and afternoon, the rain, the vines that grow around the windowsill and music from old turntables spilling through the storm. We wanted the groves of apple trees and strawberry bushes for our morning walks and the expanse of the entire cosmos for our viewing pleasure during the evenings. We wanted prancing on mountain tops and kissing the sublime in paddle boarding excursions and free diving to a pod of sleeping ***** whales. We wanted sunlit art studio with watercolors and oil paint and graphite pieces on thick white paper and raw clay on the wheel and ***** splattered aprons on wooden stools. We wanted
Apr 16, 2021
Apr 16, 2021 at 12:26 AM UTC
i asked the stars some questions
they said, "sorry, nothing dear."
i asked the moon if you were sleeping
and the sun answered in his stead
she said, "i just put him to bed, you should also get some rest."
i just sighed and looked at the clouds
and they just cried with me.
Dec 13, 2020
Dec 13, 2020 at 12:06 AM UTC
it ended
a milestone, a fire-
work without the blast
quiet, underwhelmed I fell
asleep
but this end,
the bittersweet replica of
the memories and books and words
of crowds and hallways and people
whose faces pass and pass and pass
this end, it has to mean some-
thing, thing that I can't hold nor revisit
but the thing that sinks in the encrusted
bit of my heart. The thing that will manifest when
years down, in a new home, or a new country or a
new mountain. This thing, the four years of life here,
there, nowhere, is, in many ways,
everywhere.
May 2, 2020
May 2, 2020 at 2:42 AM UTC
heart beats to
the taps of
your keyboards.
Sep 22, 2019
Sep 22, 2019 at 6:51 PM UTC
turning over it's teeth to
brush the tongue
the beast, scared and revered, tip-
toes down the stair-
case. It breathes the air of the
brine down the Atlantic where
the poet once left small
footprints.
who can see such a magnificent
hush my child,
shh shh shh for the storm comes
star, a crocodile husk hiding
it salmon skin
lover, lover, lover
breathe it in
for the wind will knock you
dead, prior.
Sep 22, 2019
Sep 22, 2019 at 1:35 AM UTC
stopped crying over
the leaves; their footsteps echoing so far
that i can't hear it
everyday.
let them go, truly.
Nothing bitter left to commemorate
but now good times makes me smile,
faint.
wished them well
for they are good, still;
become ashen and risen
like a golden phoenix
into words
known that they would too,
just a different bird.
Sep 11, 2019
Sep 11, 2019 at 2:00 AM UTC
if everything we say has been said
if everything we think has been thought
what is the point?
who cares?
the futility of the meaningless in the words
that have no depth
and i want to stop
but i keep searching
Apr 20, 2019
Apr 20, 2019 at 1:39 AM UTC
there is nothing romantic about being lost
the danger, the possibility
i could see it, the big sign but i can't get out
it goes round and round in a circle
and i cannot leave
Apr 20, 2019
Apr 20, 2019 at 1:24 AM UTC