Stop what you’re doing
Cut to
My old math teacher

The one who I saw at gay pride a few nights ago
Wearing neon rainbow fairy wings
And an open, white, feathered vest
And ***** shorts
And glitter
So much glitter

How even at a place where you are supposed to be wholly accepted
You can still find yourself comin’ up lonely

He stands to the side
Head down
Messing with the batteries for his glowing wand
As if once his whole ensemble is complete
He’ll be okay

I try not to watch
No one wants to be seen while changing the batteries
In their confidence

Cut to the next day
Where my friend Monica asks me to write a poem
About how god is a pointillist

We are both drunk
It his hot
Even though I don’t think I can do it
I say ok

Cut to the actual poem

Space is ******’ huge y’all
And from the distance of godliness
We form a complete picture
Like bleeding dots
Waiting to be human

How we probably smell as good as a perfume shop
From the distance of subtlety
And how the hate in our cacophony
Becomes a human white noise
How it all blends beautifully

How if we were created in god’s image
Then after 2000 years
In the cold blackness of space
He rests his head on his hands sleepily
And can only daydream about us
Because his sight and hearing have failed him

And as a collective
We represent an emotional spectrum
As big as his ego
And as large as the hole in his heart

All this has ever been about
Is finding ways not to feel so lonely

Cut to the molecules making me human
Cut to the bits of space dust that made us
The iron in our blood was once star parts

Step into this with every ounce of yourself
So I can hold you like water

Cut to the days that I get so ******* scared
That I have to think about friends just to sleep at night

Go ahead
Take a look at all my bits of broken
Stare holes into me
I promise
All my insecurities are placed where they’re supposed to be
So are yours

So are you

Cut to the grass under our feet
Being stomped flat by the dancing

Step into this
with every ounce of yourself
So I can hold you like water

So from the distance
Where bleeding dots blend
Into uniform color
Our chaos becomes trivial

I want you to know
it always has been

Because from whatever distance
We see each other from
Right here is where you belong

If it wasn’t
You wouldn’t be

My bad choices were borne of good intentions

I just wanted him to hurt a little

So much like a lost boy
I explained to him how things are
And how they are going to be

And he is gone now

He is skinny like water cascading
Down a xylophone ribcage

He is a clumsy song
A constant struggle for a high note

“It’s the thought that counts,” he says

Says, “The cream takes the pain away in my feet
Don’t worry I am making myself better.”

So many days I wish I had his dumb hope
Believed that people are only bad in movies
That everything works itself out

I have the wool
And is eyes
But lack his energy
There are holes he has made
Through bitter curiosity

It comes honest
His head throw-back mouth-agape cackle

“I am making myself better. It doesn’t even hurt right now,” he says.

Only because I love him

I wish it did

Hurt

Just a little

I wish I could touch you
not in a way that would be
awkward
just in a way that would
say in no words
I Love You
because the few characters
on a screen are not enough
I want to hug you
with full emotion
without the meaningless
emoticons and the asterisks
that means I really,
really
want to hug you
but you're there
and I'm here
How do we breach
the distance?
Why can't we touch?
I really want
to hug you
and tell you
I love you
*so much

imagine yourself                                                                                                                                                          here,

                                                                               at the beginning
                                                                                                  and end
                                                                               of all things

                                                     where a mass of unthoughts points vaguely


to a blank center-->



                                                                       ^where desires converge^
and where a sovereign evanescence
                                       wheels your neoteric self upon the world. silently;

        steaming boundaries condensate
                                            along that transfinite faultline
                                                                                pressing through existence;

                         lightning summoned to our complacent
                                                                         belief in peace.