My hands
are the shape of
this morning’s bagel: small
and untethered, sprinkled
with seeds, tasteful of hope
that today will hopefully be a good day.
I have made it - not for anyone
but for my own mouth. I have sipped
and tasted for years
what my hands have prepared
for me, cooked in the hope
that I could - no, will -
make a day good
for me.

Bottled root beer tastes like summer.
The kind I used to spend
on Kelley’s Island as a kid with
bicycles and put-put,
ice-cream cones too big and
beach trips that stretched
the length of a road too long.
The kind of summer that doesn’t end
but rather lasts too long
in the June-heat and lake-splashes - filled with laughter
from siblings who still haven’t grown old enough yet
to think twice about laughing with their younger brother.

Bottled root beer is sweet
with condensation and sweat -
sweet reminders on my tongue
that though it tastes of memories,

that makes it taste all the sweeter.

deep bass is
a wide-open-night. Sweat and
stupid questions that really -
didn’t matter all that much
by the end of the night. She
once told me,
I don’t like poems with awkward line breaks -
I like full sentences there.
I dance along to deep bass and - by doing so -
I have awkward line breaks. I have incomplete
thoughts
that don't matter all that much.
I swear I don’t remember the way her arms
swayed as she danced to the Beatles - or,
even the space among teeth as she smiled.
deep bass plays me a song and
I try to dance but my my mind keeps
with questions of how she must be - no!
No. I do not want to think that.
but - yet,
my brain keeps with it, so I do. I do.

Lovely:
he hands a helmet, she
slips away with him into the night -

The rest of us -
we talk about concerts
and what makes relationships last:
I wouldn't know that though -
my head is still
wrapped around my last one, although,
I think it goes
a little something like this:

I will hand you my helmet
and you will hope
this doesn't crash.

Let me keep this simple - I do not
like my face, my hair, the veins that
pop and throb and burst from
my hands; I do not like my voice or
the way it sounds and scratches at
this air, this space, this empty layer
of skin and feelings that hang around
me like a bog. I woke in my ****, clawed
at my eyes to have them open; I banged
and shouted at my face to have it look
differently, slightly, highly better than
this but instead of doing as I commanded,
it stopped and smirked and smiled at me
with such god-awful bravado that as I turned
it barked at me from the glass bubble that
could so easily shatter, I know you - like no-
one else - and that scares me the most. I was
in a class, windows peaked open, and I
swore I heard a voice - it was my own.
I heard you, I heard you for the first time
then, but you did not say “I’m scared”, you
just told me, I know, I know, I know this
can be scary, but that is okay, that is
okay, you are okay.

I am okay.

she dances in the light -
I see the outline of her
move and undulate before me,

waves that never stop to crash
and a shore that never seems to leave -

she dances in the mirror -
I watch her shape before me
become clear and clearer in this light,

she smiles and I smile back -

a dance that I don’t want to stop

There are stacks
          of old paper -
my old thoughts.

Rough and torn,
          there are many -
they tell my life.

On such old, sad
          ground - I walk;
I walked here many times.

Life will continue
           and continue
to stack - and I

will continue to write.

I see myself -
wrinkles
cover my eyes,

a smile
surrounds my words
and I

am old,
but I am happy

and he asked me
Love - do you feel that for her?
and I, feeling my heart thump thump,
         waited
for the words to find themselves
         waited
for my breath to not stumble -

If we were to grow old,
I would gladly talk to her grave
until I was beside her

She smells of strawberries,
ice cream on a
melting, runny day

She speaks of blueberries,
waffles in the morning -
hot and warm,
comfy -
snuggled, next to you

I smell strawberries so often;
I hear blueberries so soon,
and every time I do,
still - I think, I speak

of you

There is yellow on the leaves,
they shiver in this air, tremble
at the rain that falls
around them; it is a lovely day today

Grey hangs from the sky,
droops around the pavement so wet, rustles
the darkening daytime light
outside the window; it is a lovely day today

I sit inside this heated room
and yet, I feel the shiver from outside, I feel
the rain that hangs from this grey colored
sky, I am in awe at the yellow leaves that fall

it is a lovely day today

my dog has depression,
can’t drag itself out of bed; it lays in the kitchen and looks out the window,
wondering, worrying, whining about the light - about the window and the view; it never has
anything much to say,
or if it does,
it doesn’t amount to much, anyway; but it’s okay, it’s just my dog -
it’s not me, anyway; my dog has blue eyes - wish they were brown; all my friends have brown,
and they all seem happy; my dog can’t walk straight; it’s loud,
it’s annoying,
sometimes it smells; my dog, my dog, my dog, I tell you about my dog;
sometimes I think, it’s more important than me, I mean -
I’m not my dog, anyway; I’m not as interesting; I can’t come and say hello and all those things
that make you people smile and giggle and laugh; and when there’s a pause - a really awkward pause -
I can’t look at you
and have all that - your - worry just disappear, like that; I once screamed and howled and danced at
the moon, and my dog just - stared; but does it really matter - my dog was on a comfy bed, and
the way it sat; the same place where it sleeps -
I tell you about my dog,
I tell you about my dog;
I tell you about it all the time, for

I don’t know how to talk about

me

can you imagine

growing old?
to see - to smell
the flowers grow

year after year?

to have your love
in such a smile,
and hold it so close

year after year?

to see the wrinkles
snuggle into a blanket called
our skin, yet - we don’t mind -
as year after year

we grow like the flowers -
and I will have no fear for age nor death nor worry
for I will know - I have lived, and I have lived

with you

Couple together,
walking in the rain - pretty;
I walk with myself

that orange smiled

from the open hands
of the trees

it danced
and rejoiced
when it saw the good - there -

the ghost, from this past rain
began to wallow
and whisper to me

look at
look at
look at
how happy this all is

it had stopped now
- of course - what was new
of something meant to pass, but I didn’t worry,
it was all okay

I looked at the sky, that

orange,
and I said to myself

look at how happy this all is

on the wires

they sit;
high above the rooftops

just barely above

the clouds - I squint my eyes - they are
but
dots on a line;

I can barely see them and yet,

I know what they are, and I know
what they can do - the window
frames them as so -

It is getting colder - I feel it
in the air; it will be time to return home

soon

and
I will do so grudgingly -

but for now,
I watch those specks
and as I do,

I wonder

what it would be like to sit there among them

the flowers

they sit in this air, chilly;
the wind
it blows, yet, just as the flowers move

I feel it upon my hair

upon my face,
upon my blue feet;

The trees they ask
Do you like how I move?

I ask the same

and I hear no answer -

I never have, yet, I ask
again; again -

There is a wind
and I feel it the same as
the trees; the flowers -
I feel this wind and I will feel it again;

when I will feel it again

I know they love each other -
I can hear it
from the room across; those

muffled, rambling
conversations -
She takes the time
to talk
and he
takes the time to listen - laughter.

I'm sure they smiled, together -

I know they love each other, because
I can hear it, from here.

Smoke curls from the cup -
it swirls and dances in awe

Sunlight shines from Her hair -

Golden,
golden, golden -

is this Heaven?
I like to think
this is what it must be

I sit in this Sunlight -
bask in it - and I think
Heaven can't be as pretty
as this

All my life is buried here:
beneath the sky
that I once dreamt as heaven,

I now state as lies.

Words are etched
but are slated with time
never staying long enough to be said

so that I can make it mine.

I wish to see you again
but I realize this isn’t how it goes –
for to have you is a crime

but to have known you,
is where the beauty shows

She scratches at my head
I’m scared you’ll come in
“Do not worry”, she tells me
“I am here but for a second”
Then why stop at all?
She pushes the hair behind her ear,

She is beautiful

“I am here because I wanted to be,
can you say the same?”

I scratch at my head

I really can’t say
other than it was nice
to be here with you

You are beautiful
as I write this,
therefore, you are

You are wonderful
as I say this,
therefore, you are

You are everything
as I even begin to think this,
therefore, you are

You are my love
as I learn to love -
You are
You are
You are

I think

I think I would be happy
with just sitting

here

next to you

It was hard waking up
today; I rolled over to the swirls
in my coffee - the swirls in my head -
I couldn’t - can’t - think straight; the world
was a blur and I was in the midst of those terrible, awful,
beautiful swirls.
I hate it,
when I feel this way - so slow, so tired -
a Puppet.
I suppose,
if nothing else - that is why these sheets
comfort me so; I am alone with my thoughts
- for better or worse -
as time guides my fragile hands to crease
and curl
what covers me whole;
I am learning to make my bed
so I can learn
to make myself.

Happy
as I move my hands,
happy, as I walk to
the door -

Happy, happy,
happy - my heart smiles -

I see it on my face.

I see it when I
see You. I am

happy

         because of You

I hope you find a flower,
one that's very pretty

It doesn't need to be
any certain colour,
I just hope you like it

and I hope that flower
reminds you -
you found this pretty

and that is wonderful

They bought a house -
I hope they live there awhile,

perhaps till they're old

and someday,
when that driveway is cracked
and the door needs fixing,
they can look out and say

I know I lived a good life

The leaves
were lime green -
it was a pretty colour

They swayed
and danced and talked
in the wind

Life was
beautiful for them
and because of that

it was beautiful for me

I wish to
lay down beside you
in the soft,
sweet
confines of your arms; never fearing, nor
worrying;
never having to think,
only
to dream - How lovely
this all feels next to you

Snowflakes in
summer,
        Tombstones
In grass

         Though the names
are
  Buried,
       and memories past,

       remember
remember

your name
      too
shall last

I am trying to learn
how to smile
again:

with a laugh and a
struggle, a thought
and a grin - I will learn
to smile

again
and again

A star dances
from my window
and I watch in awe -

as silent as the night,
and as vast as this sky,
I am empty
and I am alone

but somehow,
someway,

I will continue to dance

I make my bed and brush my teeth

I hope it is sunnier tomorrow

I smile in the mirror but I still, cannot

I hope it is sunnier tomorrow

I drive somewhere, never knowing
why, and come home feeling
empty

I hope it is sunnier tomorrow

I go to sleep and wake
tomorrow,
only to find myself saying

I hope it is sunnier tomorrow

it is
truly
truly
truly not as bad
as what it may seem

and I
believed her

So little
is as perfect
as right now, and

so few things
are as wonderful
as it is

right now

I poured some coffee on the ground

It's now on my feet

I don't want to write this,
but I am
I don't know what to write,
but I am

I sat outside today
and I got bored,
so - I poured some coffee on the ground

I don't know what to make of life
but I am

...am           I
supposed to be unhappy?

I think -
Everyone else,     is...
well -                          Life

is a drag:
I'm supposed to drink and
cry
to myself
on the stairs

I'm supposed to hate myself

and my life

or
I think I'm supposed to,

right?

I want to die free
and not live caged;
a bird
a bird
a bird is free

Why can't I
be a bird?

Sometimes I'm happy
when I should be sad
and sometimes
I'm sad
when I should be happy

I look.

The branch curls upward.

It reaches the painted sky
far above where
I can ever be.

The leaves are green
and have just began
to bloom.

It is beautiful today.

I smile.

I thought it was supposed to get better
but instead

it just keeps getting worse

Why do you scare me?

I'm not sure
and maybe
I won't ever be -

I push the soft confines
of the blanket
to cover me whole

I just wish you didn't

I hastily turn the light off

We sat there

a divide between us

I didn’t know what to say
how to say it
or when to say it

so instead

I said nothing

I want a room
with a piano;
maybe even
a chair

and we'll sit and we'll play,
we'll sit and we'll sing,
and we'll sit and we'll smile
'till everything feels
just a little,
a little,
a little bit better

And when we go to bed,
we'll close the top and think
maybe tomorrow,
maybe tomorrow
we can smile again

Let me stand
gently
in the sun

and I will enjoy every moment of it

Let me hear
so sweetly
the birds that sing
and I won't ask for another moment
such as this

Do not fear her for her scars
or hate her
for how many times she has cried -

Love her
for she is broken,
respect her
for she has lived -
know that she is a mountain
that won't crumble
with tomorrow in mind

The flowers bloomed
And the shade was green,
Suspended in time
When nothing was wrong –
I should’ve hugged her then

Her smile was a tower
That led to the sky,
Tumbling and rumbling
Through the clouds of my mind -
I should’ve hugged her then

I would like to say
That at least I tried
But no one who ever died,
Lived long enough to say that
To anyone

I should’ve hugged her then

and the only Goodbye
was silence

She closed the door gently then,
Shutting the space between
us then;
and then,

silence filled my head

not something quiet
or when thoughts come to talk,
but the silence that sits there
quietly as it knows,
something that was once there

is no longer here

Be a kindergarten teacher
Or
A Magician;
Be those things
That no one else would be
Because
Tomorrow’s an option too
and they can be later -
Sleep outside.
Sleep with the window open.
Sleep on the floor
And imagine you’re the queen
That sails a ship into a thousand candy islands;
Imagine, imagine, imagine.
Drink coffee in the evening
And lose yourself in the swirls.

Be now.