Thoughtlessness—
suspends space—
too much space—between fringe and
fringe; moonlight
pools through windowsill—
a mirror of its shadowed self.
Sep 17, 2019
Sep 17, 2019 at 9:13 PM UTC
The name of our love
is Untitled. She is young,
still, and dances. She wants
to be more, wants to
Project
but her tides are always
out tides. She is
the only moon
shut-in, boxed-up, hemmed;
her light-shadow kisses
against your midnight door.
Sep 16, 2019
Sep 16, 2019 at 5:35 PM UTC
It is unlatched
so two shades of blue shine
unseen, darkening.
There is no pale impression from
the ceiling light, just indigo,
just midnight,
ink on a page unread.
You can’t make out the dust
spiraling
anymore. You can’t remember
the last notes played here,
anymore.
Aug 22, 2019
Aug 22, 2019 at 3:45 AM UTC
I'm sailing static across
new surfaces—
soft waves, soft gusts behind me.
It is giving in.
It is an osmotic tickle on my
skin, a fervor
that flows like water:
high to low.
I'm feeling mute heartbeats
at the passage, feeling it must be
larger than this.
Jul 10, 2019
Jul 10, 2019 at 12:17 AM UTC
They are strings of letters unset
from their horizons.
Swollen ink smearing
in air;
their little stalks, serene, suffocated,
like pockets of dust, attended
but in passing. Pieces
of you—agile, remiss—
spark notes in shattered
melody. The dying refrain
flutters;
only the echoes are staining. She
is like a tumbling highway,
still tumbling through full-stop.
May 16, 2019
May 16, 2019 at 12:11 AM UTC
Blue amorphous tones
waxing darkly.
Her lunge, a vaporous sigh.
And down poured the Pacific:
callous, immutable, wild.
Apr 29, 2019
Apr 29, 2019 at 9:52 PM UTC
Remember the headrest—muted
and pasted to your arms.
How it felt to smother in voicelessness.
Remember hair stains, decade-weary leather.
Remember the revolutions around ourselves.
Remember as inky sky purples from sunlight;
Confront the oppressive curls of memory.
Apr 24, 2019
Apr 24, 2019 at 12:59 AM UTC
She'd murmur "oh" to know
I'm dialing in the rain.
Muffled receiver to project an
Opus wholly mine. Picture
the murmur, shouldered.
Picture this chord, roaring in yellow tungsten,
Littered to the formless.
Apr 11, 2019
Apr 11, 2019 at 9:30 PM UTC
Orchard hedge, overrun and hazy.
Murmur—
as flowers in your arms decay.
Long to sleep softer.
Long to sleep softer, thereafter.
Shattered by foggy peaks.
Mar 20, 2019
Mar 20, 2019 at 1:36 AM UTC