You stand in the mirror and the light shines
From in front of you;
You've become more of a silhouette
Than a person.
You run your fingers through your hair
As you press strands between
Hot metal
And heart between
Teeth.
Your grandmother called you
Mara Bird
And I think the name is fitting:
Curls dance across your shoulders
And down your back
Like birds flitting across water's surface;
The hum that finds its way
From the atrium of your mouth
And into the space around us
Resembles those of songbirds
Whose tunes are audible
Only to those who are really listening.
(And I want to tell you that
I am really listening).
Feb 27, 2018
Feb 27, 2018 at 12:20 AM UTC
Sometimes I peel oranges
So the remnants will
Hide beneath the
Half-moon of my fingernails,
And I will smell of citrus
For the day.
My friends used to call me orange peel,
Do you remember that?
Your hands are sweet like mine, too,
When they are veiled in confidence
And nimble like the legs of a
Ballerina.
I did ballet as a child,
I can show you a pirouette
Or an arabesque,
And my fingers can play Arabesque
On the piano, too.
Sixteenth note runs
Remind me of children in the moonlight
Chasing fireflies and
Running in the grass.
You call to me,
I think we should join them—
I think we should join them,
You call.
Feb 26, 2018
Feb 26, 2018 at 10:52 PM UTC
or-ange, mango,
banana too,
hell-bent on regretting you.
campfire-chair-sitting on hardwood floors
in a stranger's home, i think.
turn off the lights, it's raining.
i had some to drink (not enough)
but you had to drive
but so did i.
turn off the lights, it's raining
on the bannister,
your piano-key-fingers cascading over my
carpals, metacarpals, phalanges too.
topple me into a room
but today it's not for laundry,
‘cause the only thing that's getting washed away
is my record of not saying
i love you (in my head, because
strangers
don't say that to each other).
you lassoed me in and we fell
into the empty hangers that i pushed away from you;
shadows on a skeleton’s scapula.
tabloids never told me that three months’ salary couldn't
buy the rights to the song
of your heart beating darkly in your chest.
turn off the lights, it's raining
and you can't see the way i
feel you.
May 21, 2017
May 21, 2017 at 1:16 PM UTC
Dancesong soul your
gentle yet competent –oh so competent—
fingers are mesmerizing with
chipped baby blue nail polish
adorning the clear keratin
you often forget exists.
you also quickly cease to remember that
You Exist. kaleidoscopic and symphonious
tremors of life can break
you in violent waves or soft
eucalyptus scented embraces
oscillating between ecstasy and
euphonious melancholy
is Okay.
raging with life
stay vivacious and full of
sweet scented oils and soft yet strong
--oh so strong—
unrelenting
music.
Jul 11, 2016
Jul 11, 2016 at 6:56 PM UTC
I have no filter
raw naked bare authentic exposed heart emotions
constantly pouring into the open
humans are desperate for fidelity
and I know nothing but that
let's play a game
I'll hold up your pride
keep the walls
and stand alone to watch
you do your dance
and dissipate
from mainstream
even more than you already have
I know what I want
let's play a game
Apr 23, 2015
Apr 23, 2015 at 9:22 PM UTC
I speak you
(portuguese, spanish, english aside)
I speak you almost fluently
and now I wear shiny lip-gloss more often
since I'm speaking you without touch
for now. and
distance is beautiful
--like your knuckles
and the back of your taught ankles--
which are not noticed enough
(they hold everything together)
much like distance.
I think both are beautiful on you.
Apr 9, 2015
Apr 9, 2015 at 8:07 PM UTC
the glow-in-the-dark stars on my wall
are brighter than
my ambitions,
vicodin washes down with
stone cold fear,
and mercury is in retrograde-
not that we felt the need to communicate.
tiny planets on a string,
we danced in the
orbit that we shared.
you had misgivings,
told me pluto
never made it around the sun,
not even once.
but earth created a moon
with her soulmate.
mercury doesn't return direct
until february 11th;
by then
paracetamol and hydrocodone
will have passed.
opiates and human beings
both sources of anxiety
but i don't mind
drowning in them both.
Feb 8, 2015
Feb 8, 2015 at 6:26 PM UTC
how eager we are to forget
where we came from,
as though we weren't
dirt beneath God's
meticulous manicure mere
fractional eternities ago.
you stopped talking to me
just days ago, but
it feels like epochs;
time dilates in strange
manners, it truly is alien.
there are civilizations
that simply do not
measure time; things happen when
they happen, and that
is that. foreign concepts and
foreign languages slipping across
the tip of my tongue, while
foreign tongues work their way
into your every orifice.
I'm laying in bed, last night
was a bust, I drank a
little bit of whiskey but
not enough, it rained but
only briefly, and I
did not have fun but
I cannot complain;
at least I don't need
you anymore.
Feb 8, 2015
Feb 8, 2015 at 12:47 AM UTC
you are a planet
but i am a star
(i am bigger than you, i will burn your eyes out, and i do not orbit around you)
Feb 8, 2015
Feb 8, 2015 at 12:21 AM UTC