"poetry writes people"
"days feel things"
"true eyes left twisted girls"
"beautiful dream, better screams"
"gravity slowly wrote art"
"familiar hungry poets"
"hear(ing) the outdated void"
"she misses her sweet toothaches" (actually "misses special toothaches but whatever)
"rain forgets promises"
"simple euphoria finding groceries"
"(the) gnarled verses day spawns"
"common machines play unimpressive predictions"
"clothing stained (with) heartbreak"
"scrawled swears share unique stories"

poetry is supposed to be something for everyone
young, old
democrat, republican
punctuation or not
it is something to be encouraged
even if their first poem is a stumbling mess
about a ladybug or some such thing
with no real direction
and the lack of punctuation
it is a poem
and that should be enough

She built a ukelele
two summers (or decades, or eternities) ago
at a workshop.
It used to be a cigar box
the surgeon general's warning sticker still on it.
It sits on a coffee table
reminding her of how
she never learned how to play it.

I had a nice dream last night
for the first time in a long time
(not another nightmare
or a dream where I would wake up feeling the absence of you
no longer dominating
more like the loss of a nonvital *****)
it was an abstract dream,
flashes of moments -
a nice cup of tea
a lavender-scented pillow
but progress is progress
maybe someday you'll fade into a scar
something I can trace to remind myself
of how bad the wound used to be
progress is progress
I feel like now I can finally say
"goodbye, my love"

no new notifications
what can i expect really
its not like people see stale work
i have to write new poems to get views and likes and hearts and comments and validation
what can i expect really
with the awful way that technology has rewired my brain, i should really just-
PING
oh
i should really go check on that  . . .

life takes after art
art after life
there they go again
chasing each other
who is the dog
and who is the tail
it's hard to tell some days
the people i imagine feel so real
known yet mysterious
and the people that i could touch
are about a mile away

is it that life spawns art
predicts it
or the other way around