They say, the dying are greeted, by their mothers
She comes for them at the end
Her love reaching further than bookends
Loving before, when you’re but an idea
A single cluster of cells,
Pregnantly waiting,
For birth
You came into the world quickly,
Precariously, the way you moved in life
Your pace blazing—light speed
A glow that burned from the beginning
You were likely, the first person I ever held,
Me being too little to hold onto anything much bigger
But of course I adored you right away,
Right from when I first held you,
You made more than a daughter
You left the world quickly too,
during the month the sun burns the hottest,
August sweeping you into the air.
So I wonder, who came for you?
What I like to imagine,
and most desperately hope,
Is that you were greeted by a softness
A loving net cast by our grandmothers
Rocking you slowly
Pulling you back into our linage
Mar 6, 2021
Mar 6, 2021 at 5:06 PM UTC
On the phone we’d walk and talk in circles
Repeated conversations
Patterns on my rug worn from our talking
You taught me a life lived right will circle
Memories working out of order
psychic dream senses in waking life,
stitching back together to make a web,
Somethings have more than one context
But the synchronicity will only comes to those in rhythm
To seek out the motion, careful attention must be maintained:
A book will come back twice if it’s supposed to
One mention of it, you might let it slip your mind,
But then will come a coincidence so strong,
you’ll know it was supposed to be read
Without the dedication to trust a great doubt sets in,
the web so carefully spun begins unspooling
tangling into a knot wound so tight
It will leave in it's place a black hole
this is where I titer
between the point of falling in,
or dangling along the lines of the knot
trying to detangle whats left of the web we created
I am dancing around in different directions
hoping we’ll pass again in sync
Mar 6, 2021
Mar 6, 2021 at 4:57 PM UTC
Today we noticed a dripping in the library.
We covered up the shelves with a plastic covering but drops from the ceiling hit the tile, splashing over the ground level books.
We did our best to carry those ones away.
But there we were: 2 college students, hopeless in the face of a plumbing disaster;
As the art history books soaked on the shelves
Sep 5, 2019
Sep 5, 2019 at 11:05 PM UTC
you caught me mid-sip
with a smile and a wave.
As the corners of my mouths rose,
a dribble of coffee escaped.
I brought my sleeve to my lips
thinking no one had seen
but looked over and there was
another, smirking at me
Apr 29, 2019
Apr 29, 2019 at 12:24 PM UTC
You said it felt like someone stabbed your throat with a knife.
Your tongue was the knife that stabbed mine.
Apr 5, 2019
Apr 5, 2019 at 1:45 PM UTC
This one’s for the grass eaters:
the ones who teeter on the edge of
reality. For the ones who are hyper-
aware of their consciousness. It’s for
the ones who jump on the creaky wooden
floor to witness the annoyance of those
around them. It’s for the smile you let go after
someone catches you trying to ignore
them. It’s for the Ibuprofen that tears the lining of my
esophagus. It’s for rushing to get to church
so God knows you aren’t late. It’s for the baby
cactus that you are in denial of over-watering---
It’s for that handful of grass I just want to
throw in my mouth.
Mar 11, 2019
Mar 11, 2019 at 5:34 PM UTC
Spiders spin in my sleep
webs wrapping wishes
into secure spheres.
I'll throw them across time.
Maybe mayhem
can carry cravings
far from fantasy.
Feb 18, 2019
Feb 18, 2019 at 5:46 PM UTC
I think it's so cliche
that you assume we disagree
Dec 15, 2018
Dec 15, 2018 at 11:24 AM UTC
This garden you planted in my mind.
Weeded out my doubts
Your words like seeds
Your thoughts caring
Like the clouds
Looking out for the ground
With their rain.
I shook you off
Like the branches
And the leaves in November.
Yet you returned
Like the spring
And you’re slow to scold winter.
Dec 2, 2018
Dec 2, 2018 at 10:47 PM UTC