Grandpa?
Tell us about the flowers again.

"I don't like to tell those stories anymore little Bug."

but you write allll your poems about the flowers
you have so much love in you papa!

"I don't remember the flowers, Bug."

you have to remember the flowers!
you spent years telling the world about them on stage!
How the sunflower invited you to an occupied bed
and you stayed there for shelter
imagined a future with her, another child
But You found your child in the pansie
when the sunflower left for Hotter adventures.
You really loved the pansies Grampa

"Yes I did, more than anything."

Every time you met a flower you left them for the pansies!
the pansies are so pretty
they had you obsessed grandpa, you were addicted you said!
how they smelled, how they felt on your fingers
but they were always getting into danger and never listened to you
they made you feel like you were broken
and they were withering away
All of your flowers always went without eating grandpa!
why didn't you water them?

"I promise you bug, I watered them plenty."

crying on them doesn't help grandpa,
you needed to feed them

"I fed them plenty"

Did you feed them enough sun?
you always said you kept them in
with the windows shut, that's why they withered
until they all left you for the sun

"The sun left me, they didn't leave me for the sun."

No the forget me nots took the sun from you
you said that a lot
how she stole the happiness from you and gave you this poetry
how you really can never forget her
and you hate that it's her favorite flower
because it seems enchanted on purpose to haunt you.

"Let's talk about a different flower"

Ooh the daffodil didn't eat either
she wrote poems about it! and she even wanted to plant a bunch of poison for you
she kept coming back too! all the flowers came and went with the seasons
she gave you so much that you practically died when she left
you were poor and got sick from not eating
crashed your car and tried to **** yourself

"these aren't casual things you should be talking about in passing with your grandpa bug"

but it's all in your poetry!
the pansies really loved you grandpa.
The sunflowers gave you Charity because it's what they knew
The daffodils supported you when you both needed each other
the forget-me-nots are the reason for all your trauma and will stick with you for the rest of your life
but the pansies kept coming back because they loved you
you didn't offer each other anything other than love
you didn't drive each other or pay for bills
you didn't even like to go out but you did, because it was a reason to be together

What's your favorite Flower Grandpa?

"I never had one when I was asked"

when was the last time you were asked?

"when the pansies first told me their name"

what did you say?

"I said goodbye...
but not for long
you know me and the pansies"

4/17/17

You ever wanna lick a lollipop?
You ever wanna take turns licking the lollipop
With your loved one?
You ever wanna lick the lollipop at the same time
But your loved one shoves
the whole lollipop
stick and all
Down their throat
Swallows it
Asphixiates on the mere Concept
Of ever having licked the lollipop in the first place
Let alone the reality that you
You, the love of their life,
They, the victim of ultimatum
Have both licked the lollipop?
.
.
.
Have
You ever been the lollipop?

Erasure & Found Poem from
"On Photography By Teju Cole in april 16th new york times magazine

--

You were The fast moving disaster of a tsunami
added to the slow motion disaster
of a nuclear calamity

Towns flooded
Infrastructure wrecked
Forests splintered
more than 15,000 people dead.
earthquake cut off
my external power supply
Floodwaters damaged my backup generators
Disabled it's cooling system
Overheating ensued
Fuel in three reactor cores melted
Releasing radiation

Everyone saw The water coming in
The roads swept away
Towns and harbors destroyed

Extensive documentary work
was undertaken by photographers
Of the ruins,
Debris,
Cleanup and relief operations

The gut-wrentching scale of destruction
The professionalism of the emergency crews
The fortitude of the survivers

The extreme uncertainty I feel
in our current political moment
helps me understand for the first time
the curious twinship
of mourning and premonition.

Information
about the tragedy
Sorrow for the suffering it caused
Gratitude for the work
that makes sorrow visible
Foreboding about the future.

An alert flashes
your phone
Something terrible has happened
Far away, a flood, an airstrike,
Soon, there's footage of people picking through wreckage
what used to be their homes

It is easy to pity them
Difficult to imagine this will be you
Suddenly bereft of a solid place in the world.

Listening to anything
that touches on the sublime
makes me apprehensive.

Like The silence that greets us
waking in the middle of the night

Can't remember if
My family knows I'm gay and
Polyamorous

Perhaps my story
Loving him and his wife was
Misinterpreted

When you spent so much time
at work and school
social activities and non-profits
doing art and homework and making money
And wondering what sleep feels like
that you don't see your family for like a year
so when you see them on Easter
You are neon pink amd pistachio cream
in a sea of Blues and greys
Everyone is polite and lovely
You want to blend in
But Everything you say is out of context
Because %75 of your lifestyle is based
In being REAL gay
and you aren't sure
if they remember
You are REAL gay.
Or Polyamorous
Orthat when you say you were beaten that's
A GOOD THING
so you kinda just watch everyone else
And hope nobody is offended
By you smiling at them.

4/15/17

I look around at what totems I've collected
Paper Fair bracelets and movie tickets
Trash standing in for memories.
Some with pen on the back to remind me what they mean.
Others blank, reminders of how much i've lost.
I keep meeting men twice my age with the life i wanted who have done half as much as me
Who are impressed at how much I've done  
But I just tell everyone I've completed everything I've started.
Like I'm fast forwarding until my body catvhes up.
By the time they realize it's a lie It will be true
And the only thing stopping it from being real
Is time.
but I keep forgetting what I say will happen
Unless i write it down
become a prophet of my own story.
Ink spilling like reminders
Papertrails in lockboxes

4/12/17

She said she moved across the countrey to
Get away from her sister
They got a divorce and it was
Against her beleifs.
Against God.
I told her firmly
That i empathized
How it must be hard to move across
The world, to pack up everything
Just for your morals
She said she and her husbamd moved in with the ex husband her sister
And that the whole family besides herself
Supported her sister.
I said that must be hard.
Then when she loved me
Knew i understood.
I promptly told her i was polyamorous.
That my lover moved to ireland
To live with her husband
Packed up everything
And how hard that must be
and She did not flinch
I held her as she cried on my shoulder
She in the fifteen moments I saw her
Realized there is a whole world of differences
She can find comfort in when she is alone
She never once knew what I thought of her
Morals
How In my family we have divorce celevrations.
How ending is always a new beginning
How you can love amd still realize that a forever is going to make you miserable
Or never having a baby will **** you
Or being ***** every night is going to torture you
Even if the abuser is your own husband
I worry for her safety.
A woman who doesn't beleive in the word stop.
Doesn't consider leaving
Or letting go
I could never trust someome like that.
I would never be able to see them without feeling regret.
There is no words for the sorrow I place in that body of theirs.
And it is not my place to change it.
But I can tell them how happy i've been
Letting go someone I love, forever.
Not because We are unhappy.
Just because it was time for them to go.
Tell her how I still love them.
How i miss them every day, but it does not depress me.
It enlightens me.
Tell them of all my happy memories
libraty labrynth where she made me look her up with the dewey decimal system
Ice skating and backwards buttwiggles
Every time we stayed up late and I whispered that she existed.
Because even I wasn't convinced.
Now that she's left.
I'm still not.

But I will never forget either of them.