she did not want anyone
to understand her

she did not want the world
to understand her

she did not want the sky nor the ground
to understand her

she just wanted
   to understand
               herself.

I was always convinced you could feel me
We were of the moon and of the tides
(But) too stubborn to attempt another ride

I wanted you to know everything
in my eyes.
The truth
when I deliberately told you lies
and the expense of a life in a heart before it dies.

You would be gone too soon
All of this and heaven too
I would wander, I will roam
I will find decadence in alone.
I would dream, I will achieve
Everything only after you leave

You are the anchor chained to my throat,
You are the sand in a shallow moat.
You are the power in my stare,
You are the guilt after an innocent dare.
You are the face in the shadows on the wall
You are the fear in the Devil's call

The invitation to come in
Join a game you cannot win.
But I play, but I play
And forgive the day
Forgive and move away
The state lines you will cross
To lasso me in, refuse your loss
Of my heart, of my head

Your place in the poems I have read

Isn’t physically quick or agile.

Disappears in libraries.

Has been known to dissolve into the physical pages of books.

Is good at tucking herself into the stacks and retreating to reading nooks.

Blends in at coffee shops where her voice can be drowned out by the grinding and the steaming.

Can become indistinguishable in the dark of theatres, in the quiet shuffle of art galleries, the finger-snapping of poetry readings, the hum and jostle of the Tube.

Is indistinct. Adept at hiding in plain sight.

Dear rain,

        You are
my favorite song and so I hope that you keep playing. You are

my favorite show I hope you don’t think I’m insane. You are

the greatest friend I hope for you I am the same. You are

the greatest cure I hope you see all of my pain. You are

his big achievement but he won’t tell us the game. You are

his biggest secret so he won’t tell us your name. And so

again the time has come, again the seasons look to change. And I’ve
seen them come again but these autumn leaves won’t look the same.

My home is made of grit and dirt

The taps run sweat,

the windows are shattered,

their glass clinging to frames

like broken teeth to gums in the mouth of a boxer.

My town is a fighter,

built of scrap metal and machines.

The streets are steel

and the river nuts and bolts,

its gears turn through rust

and parts corrode away.

Time turns it green, orange,

black with oil and grime,

but my city is a fighter,

made of grit and dirt,

and it lives.