desperate air
& every piece of body,
named on countless charts
in countless schoolroom closets
but only felt to me
in shimmers of springs
& soft running steps
on moss & oak leaves,
trembles & thrives in the space
between roots.
I feel it when there is wind
in the valley of the small of
the back of the adolescent cedar,
& unpolished beetles play me
twilight nocturnes in hopes
that I will break out of
silk fetters into the
dense of August to be
no one but myself.
Oct 12, 2015
Oct 12, 2015 at 4:26 PM UTC
Below, blades are not
safe from snooping golden glares.
And at night, the moon.
Jul 10, 2014
Jul 10, 2014 at 11:02 PM UTC
The difference between
those old mustard stains
and Jackson *******
Jun 23, 2014
Jun 23, 2014 at 4:19 PM UTC
Resign to me, give in.
let me live in the shakes of your
body
let me revel
in the trembles of
pupils dilating
fingers grasping
make eye contact
shiver deeply beneath me
gasp
let me
in
Jun 10, 2014
Jun 10, 2014 at 10:59 PM UTC
Affection blooms within the cracks
where the heart has
split into fertile vulnerability
& is quenched by showers of kindness,
patiently & selflessly.
I've grown a love for you;
take it gently & easily
& plant it within your emptiness;
grow for me,
too.
May 30, 2014
May 30, 2014 at 9:32 PM UTC
Is it wrong to miss you?
What if we both run
parrallel lines along
snowy walks--
legs stepping across
bleached streets like
soldiers in unison,
at the same time,
together;
but still,
still parallel.
I learned in elementary school
that we can never ever
touch.
May 23, 2014
May 23, 2014 at 12:56 AM UTC
If we are all just for our own sake,
what conclusion could we ever come to?
What are we then,
how--what makes us so great
that even our mere existance is
the explanation of our presence;
each some sort of unique gift to the universe?
I, you, we are each a bundle of cells,
hormones, arguably a soul,
but definitely atoms in space--
space, which is both infinitely large
& infinitely small.
Instead of right or wrong,
we are diminished to foolish little snowflakes,
all dumbly in our own way, "human."
"Art for art's sake," we are all
paintings on the mantle:
abstract & upside-down,
but nobody can tell the difference.
May 15, 2014
May 15, 2014 at 12:55 PM UTC
How to:
focus on letters falling
out of your mouth like
a leaky spigot when
you have orchard eyes &
honeysuckle lashes that I
am positive would feel
like the down of the most
expensive pillow if
brushed against my
fingertips, & lilac breath
that dances around your
dripping syllables so gracefully
& dissipates like the sweetest
fog around me so that
I cannot see past you;
but why, why
on Earth would I
ever look away?
May 6, 2014
May 6, 2014 at 9:10 PM UTC
I grow weary of increasingly less
complex humans approaching me
in halls & wanting nothing more
than to see me naked in their bed
& when I say
*no
no
no,
how about we talk about why
people die or the shape of
the wind*,
they get
*blown
away*
in
it
Apr 15, 2014
Apr 15, 2014 at 9:23 PM UTC