Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Apr 2020 · 234
arizona Apr 2020
a cold knot, frostbitten.
We pretend these teeth have grit
and meet the frays in
a wild hunger.
I don’t know how long I’ve been here –
labored breathing like clockwork.
I leave questions on the table
but the air holds silence,
the shield.
The maddening ticking.
I would love to always be so sure.
Apr 2020 · 221
arizona Apr 2020
The moment is enough
to summon all the signs
that exist only in
someone’s mind;
all their thoughts and dreams
circulate and mingle.
Memory must untangle the reality -
an outline of the possible.
Rally the momentum,
squeeze the wheels
to go the distance.
Mar 2020 · 245
"the world is your oyster"
arizona Mar 2020
my oyster is closed today
and the days that follow

I am curled up and somehow
still tumbling, churning along

we are all pretending to be okay
that we won’t crack, and let the water flood

my oyster is not the world today,
but the home I had slowly abandoned

though I am finding new spaces to
fill in this impromptu cocoon

One day I hope to wake to
calmer waters and air that heals

and remember the solitude and stories
of voices that held us together.
COVID-19 has nearly severed our every connection to the world.
Good or bad...and both!
Mar 2020 · 1.0k
arizona Mar 2020
Cycles of dawn and dusk pass,
creep around in long shadows
as emotions thaw.
I’m no longer trapped in
the tangled fibers of existence.
I am existence:
the definition of survival.
Former victim to the
relentless pulls of the universe
I now wear my own rings,
have my own orbit.
I dreamt myself a world:
full of meaning and purpose.
Mar 2020 · 143
arizona Mar 2020
Black dust, a shadow
obscuring all light;
eyes lost in the clouds.
The darkness melts
into the background
and the walls that
destroyed us form
crumpled recollections.
They appear into one another
and nothing in them ever changes.
Dust falls, dries up
and rusts.
Sorrow does not flow,
it drifts among
like a fine mist
across lonely streets.
The gray trace
coats and runs together;
their influence
changes every day.
Feb 2020 · 189
arizona Feb 2020
Turn me, hold me,
like a precious jewel in hand.
I am the sea inside a shell:
stalled magic waiting for the right ear
to want to know my force.
I am both sunbursts and the night’s backbone,
the rainmaker and stretched waves.
I am wanting to know you completely.
See how I move through you,
making a refuge into a home.
These roots twist and bend
arching themselves into words,
a promise of arrival
in all of its forms.
Jan 2020 · 164
arizona Jan 2020
Sometimes I wonder how
to digest poetry.
Should it be a savory, warm course
like a red wine
with a strong bouquet
of aged perfection;
the aroma of a lingering finish,
leaving a lasting impression
on the tongue.
Or should it feel
more like a shot;
a quick punch to the soul,
wrenching out a toast
to shared emotions;
clearing and blurring
all at once.
To feel the sharp burn
of a poet’s plea flood
through my being,
searching for understanding.
Either way, I just
want to feel the words.
Dec 2019 · 468
arizona Dec 2019
Worship these times:
the need of a cool night
raw beneath the diamond moon.
I am wax & rock;
a surging chant of
celestial matter.
Wait and watch the birth
of a rusty sky;
how light sails across,
treads madly to cover
restless souls
searching for a fragment of light,
no longer willing to
wish upon a star.
Dec 2019 · 208
velvet dreams
arizona Dec 2019
come the vast eternity,
angel in the clouds
and velvet stars.
Her magic must always
open the ocean in me
and be the warm voice of the universe;
melt the sky and bring us
slowly home.

She can lick water
from the petal.
A smooth goddess
in a honey gown;
sweet & drunk.
Sings a thousand dreams
between her wings.
Nov 2019 · 205
arizona Nov 2019
Sometimes it is less about giving
reasons to live and
more about forgetting ways to die.
Who said I’m not trainable?
Smothering balm along the
cracked edges of my soul
leaving myself stuck
between unworldly and much too human
Tucked somewhere in unnamed files
and scraps of paper
there is a voice I can no longer recognize,
a blood trail with no scent to track.
On the rare days,
I had the devil on speed dial
and knew every shortcut to
find myself 6 feet below my thoughts.
Now I wonder how it became so easy,
so fluent for death to roll off the tongue
and flood every shred of instinct.
Oct 2019 · 609
arizona Oct 2019
Fall scratches insatiably,
clawing for its turn to
lead the earth into an
arboreal orchestra;
the brief interlude of
leaves descending.
Each a whispered note
carried by the wind herself.
Listen closely to the tree canopy
swaying to the natural hymn
of death;
We will all be alright.
Aug 2019 · 173
arizona Aug 2019
If an apple can teach us gravity
I think I should be able
to teach myself
some sort of survival -
if only I could stop
searching in the shallow.

Instead I crave
the deep ocean,
the bliss of danger and darkness.
This steady state of imagination
sends my stray thoughts
swinging sideways;
the back and forth momentum
of energy builds inside.

Here I am, human:  skin and spit.
I am worth nothing
if I cannot twist
the horizon into a
thin layer of gauze,
and wrap myself
into the pulse of this earth
Aug 2019 · 474
arizona Aug 2019
To swim, together, to swim
across the oceans -
to baptize
ourselves in the endless
waves of creation

To write, together, to write
giving new meaning to old words -
to find the light
that unearthed us
from chaos.

To love, together, to love
and bring us into being -
to summon a new flame
birthed gently
from the smolder.

My companion:
here we are,
setting fire to an
infinite love.
Aug 2019 · 208
sun daze
arizona Aug 2019
We played in those hot afternoons -
imagined we owned patches of
this earth, barefoot;
used pebbles as currency.
Those times now an image,
an echo growing quiet.
And how we would sweat,
initiated into summer with
red cheeks and shoulders
and we knew your intense being -
how omniscient you were,
but we had no burden to carry
just our mutual understanding
of never knowing what
tomorrow would bring.
summer as a kid - outside, always.
Jul 2019 · 237
Devil's Breath (Anagram)
arizona Jul 2019
Inferno begins, before sinning
flames roar, false armor

Ascending fire, defiance rings
shadows spring, shaping swords

Piercing slits, rites splicing
silent preacher, chantries repel

Faith crumbles, brimful scathe
feared psalms, flames spread

Restrained voices, creates diversion
avulse deism - a devil’s muse
each line is an anagram of itself
Jul 2019 · 177
happy birthday
arizona Jul 2019
Perhaps I orbit you,
circling the space
I wish you still occupied.
Every year another
palm cupped full of ash
thrown to the wind
instead of the smoke of
birthday candles or confetti.
I am breaking the
rules of physics:
thrusting myself into
the yesterdays,
the time before
the stillness.
Jul 2019 · 258
arizona Jul 2019
without a flutter,

the wind nearly calm

the tide stretched before us

offering the sea,

a canvas of gleaming spirits.

like an ocean to it’s ship --

we made ourselves for rising.
Jul 2019 · 86
arizona Jul 2019
There is magic
in the conversation
between brain and tongue
and what isn’t said becomes
blooms of fog;
water over wax,

Sometimes there’s no answer,
as if you were hitting a door
to see if someone was home:
your body a broken analog.
Lost signals,
busy tone.

It’s funny how easy is it
to lose yourself
without ever leaving your mind;
to reach out in illusion --
the silence imposes chaos.
May 2019 · 383
What Flows Within
arizona May 2019
These lips know
of a love letter
I've left on your chest,
sealed within
the beating of your heart.
You could take a syringe
and draw these words
from the blood
we've made promises in.
They were brush strokes:
light and carefully placed.
Each sigh, becoming
more like prayer,
the soft hum became a hymn;
all praise to the love
that flows within.
unintentional rhyming at the end, but so it goes.
May 2019 · 160
come home
arizona May 2019
Oh but I've been
missing what's mine.
Another midnight spell,
a flashback to the time
our arms were outstretched
in the cool sheets;
bodies as human sails
taking us somewhere new.
These hands of mine that
know the canvas of you,
left anxiously waiting
are the same hands
that hold you in prayer
until you return,
until our next embrace
into the unknown.
I just need you to
come home.
Apr 2019 · 108
Twilight for a Goddess
arizona Apr 2019
She asks for me;
I can’t feel about it
as a Mecca, as some
focus of light.
Her quiet eyes wide;
skirting the edge of suspicions.
Her view is something
rather striking.
Conversation becomes heavy,
but I know only how to glance forward.
Her voice rises above the others
and tells me:
"the way to Heaven is never easy".
The heat, the even tone of a draw;
we melt into one pulse.
giving in.
Apr 2019 · 399
arizona Apr 2019
The nature of chaos
is painted between
intolerable sun drowned
in thick haze
and dry, weathered mountains -
dark and bitter,
its crust of lies.
Wind drifts about,
soil sculptured
into storms that come
slow and maddening.
Here, the hot sink of air
heavy and breathless,
dust devils dance
cries for downpours,
bursts of lost loves.
back on my chaos grind.
Apr 2019 · 170
If Love Could Talk
arizona Apr 2019
There is a word
for the sound a fire brews
on a cool March night
doused in ash and carefulness.
It is so close to the
quiet beating of your heart,
a silent lust
that echos into mine.
There is a word for
the moment your face is
just a kiss-length away.
It is close to the
force held in a moon’s hand,
gently calling love home.
There is a word for the
calmness emitting from within you;
tell me again of a word that means remain
                         a word that means darling
              a word that means stay, stay, stay.
Apr 2019 · 113
arizona Apr 2019
Fire crackling;
split flames and words sent upwards
like invitations to dance.
So, we dance among the stars
aching to find lost souls
that slowly descend.
Sometimes I am looking for myself.
Tonight I found the moon
as if having been laid off,
aimlessly drifting between
streets and back alleys,
completely bent out of shape;
a shatter to an ooze.
Or perhaps, champagne uncorked
then snuffed by the thick air
we polluted ourselves.
It reminds me how we all develop
imbalances, somewhere.
How everyone has a dark side,
and how desperately we *****
and dance around those too.
There is no such thing as the dark side of the moon.The Moon takes about 29 days to orbit the Earth and it takes almost the same amount of time to make one rotation on its axis -- this is why we always see the same side: aka tidal locked.

Sometimes we are always in a dance with ourselves, never trying to reveal that which can hurt us most. Out of sight, out of mind. How can you face that which never stands before you?

Sometimes we are so locked into the idea of locking ourselves out.
Feb 2019 · 159
arizona Feb 2019
Clouds are rolling by
my window, as if in a hurry
to bring the last snowfall;
one more to beat last year’s record.
A mid-western spring:
a season not always
true to its own colors.
Here, the garden still frozen,
soft blanket of white.
How slowly the earth
seems to moves beneath us
and I am trying to coax
the sun to come a little closer.
My hands red and swollen,
removing rocks and old roots,
letting her know:
I’m ready.

Bring me summer,
the few hours in morning
before the sun groans,
spent tilling
and eventually picking weeds
away from my Romas,
my Early Girls.
I trust the twine to
tightly curl branches around
these weathered stakes.
I long for the fragrance
of dirt and tomato
to fill both the air and
the space underneath
my fingernails.
I’m waiting for the red ripe calling.
For them to let me know:
We’re ready.
Snow seemed to last forever in Wisconsin. Snowed until mid-April. I was so impatient and wanted to start a garden for the first time much too early. Waiting for summer was hard. The garden bed was filled with nothing but rocks and I spent 4 hours one afternoon clearing them out. I ended up planting tomatoes, jalapenos, bell peppers, basil, and cilantro. I miss my mornings spent picking weeds and seeing new tomatoes come up, sometimes with surprise visitors (Eastern Black Swallowtails),
Jan 2019 · 203
arizona Jan 2019
My chest will always
be the place to lay both
your head and heart,
and the thoughts that ripple
aimlessly and anxiously,
trespassing your sense of rationality.
Never forget we are one
and what you feel is
what I'll wear without grievance
knowing the weight has lifted,
shifting itself upon me.
And as night closes in
and we've parted with the day,
said our goodbyes in sleepy kisses
and last squeezes of our intertwined hands,
we'll leave all that stirred and scrambled
all our yesterdays,
greeting all the tomorrow's
with the certainty of
all that we are:
a love, whole.
Jan 2019 · 338
first light
arizona Jan 2019
Morning breathes and
         breaks the day,
splintering the sky
           into hues of orange and yellow
    waiting for a seam to unravel
       and the blue to come flooding in,
watching the clouds tip-toe on by.
sunrises, I guess.
Jan 2019 · 207
arizona Jan 2019
There, at the top of
an aging pine,
hidden among the dying needles
thick in their marmalade color
I am no longer ten,
the girl without a fear of heights,
but a songbird.
Just like the christening
of the black and white keys
of a baby piano,
I want to feel the weight of
the earth on each feather
that holds me high above.
Here, I firmly believe
the first heavy exhale
will be enough to lift me
beyond these motherly branches
and into the forever-blue.
And I will think of myself,
these wings, as lace -
so delicate, so intimate.
And most importantly,
I will be home.
Often, as a little girl, I would climb the various trees around my neighborhood. Sometimes stalking the mailman from above with my dollar store binoculars. Sometimes I sat high above and understood why trees in the winter stood like pitchforks, angry at the sky who doesn't have to understand death, as it just is and will always be. That's where I want to exist..
Jan 2019 · 172
arizona Jan 2019
I have placed
all that I am,
all I hope to be
among the chaos
of your half-inflated heart;
I know this because
I have felt it swell
in the moments we are one:
your hand willingly in mine and
the soft whispers of dreams
we so tightly hold above.

Let your soul rest
for I promise to
anchor myself deeply and
stand watch to all that
dares to pry open
that which we have
so meticulously built
day by day;
all I will ask is that
your heart never again
feels the gutted offbeat
crack of betrayal.

It is now forever mine
to hold softly, amidst
the times of doubt
and inevitable worry;
to teach it how to beat
in a rhythm of certainty
in an uncertain world.
It will know my call
and lay itself gently
without caution
around these faithful words
we declare with ease.
"You become responsible, forever, for what you have tamed." - The Little Prince

love you, e.
Jan 2019 · 669
aim high
arizona Jan 2019
Hope travels, overlaps the
distant dreams; a darts mindset

Arrow fondly, only forward;
steady rise, easy stride.
another poem where each line is an anagram in itself
arizona Jan 2019
The gravity of grief is
raw and mighty
and we're often caught
standing like mountains;
broken heels pressed
into pebbles,
waiting to be forged
into something solid.
Trapped in
this long exposure -
a muted stillness
from the world,
it tells us we're
accountable for our absence
like it doesn't know
it was the one that held us
a hostage to the void
and without light

Yet still we rise,
we fight to capture
maybe a glimpse of light
beaming from the sky,
giving life to our
eternal suffering,
giving warmth and
drying our futile tears.
We stand taller,
than these peaks,
having been taken down
into treacherous valleys,
bleeding into the soil
our ravished skin
will eventually heal,
and on our knees
we lift our eyes
in search of the
most divine truth.
He's the bee's knees and you can s̶t̶a̶l̶k̶  find him here:
Jan 2019 · 166
arizona Jan 2019
I have forgotten
the weight of your chest and
the warmth of wandering lips,
but I know how you offered it:
without shame or reservation;
the way the sea knows it's force,
how it could swallow the earth
but chooses to crash the shore, gently.
You are a whole world
I've learned I can touch
and I've gotten lost more times
than I can count on these hands
that trace your ethereal skin.
And so I breathe you in,
for I know our time is limited
and these fragments beg for a home,
craving the moment you
make us whole again
roll with it
Dec 2018 · 284
arizona Dec 2018
Dark blue tide
rows against the night;
the sky combing waves
with the moon's piercing slits.
Water laps and tumbles
summoning the flowing darkness home.
It roars; demanding a sacrifice,
swallowing the final breath of
this dwindling hymn.
In this unruly void, this fluid terrain
it is easy to drift and come undone,
to find yourself refined to sand;
small enough to roam without say.
Pulled down into melted dreams -
depths I wish not to know.
Dec 2018 · 315
arizona Dec 2018
Find me here where
the stars are not obscured
by the smoke of this raging fire,
so they may split my rib cage
to burrow around my heart.
Last night I trailed
magnets along your skin
to realign your poles
and place me in the center:
here, we are gods and goddesses.
How the universe pulled and swayed
as we made this whole,
how each step shook the
ground beneath, bringing
us closer to infinity.
These things draw toward us;
not even gravity and
its tug of tension
dare to challenge
the force of this love
we've forged from
infant pulses.
Dec 2018 · 868
arizona Dec 2018

loyal waves love always;
push gently, hugs plenty.

We are

floating zen, lazing often;
rising above, soaring vibe

This water:

melted prayer, merely parted;
calms the soul, small touches
each line is an anagram. this took forever
Nov 2018 · 313
arizona Nov 2018
Saltwater rivulets
trickle down
this rigid spine
back to the oceans;
an offering to
the moon and stars -
our elders in the sky
who feed these waves
eternally back to the shore.
I know I don’t deserve
the patience of this earth
or to swim in it’s ever-giving waters
but it chooses to
love me just the same.
Nov 2018 · 182
arizona Nov 2018
Recollected time, snapshots
are summoned from old ink.
When the chains around
these words lose their slack
and whiplash across the page
who is to take these gashes,
letters pressed to bone
and the lasting sting of
unfermented feelings.
I never meant to be
the catalyst but,
was the pen ever meant to puncture?
Nov 2018 · 532
muscle memory
arizona Nov 2018
Leaving and arriving
have become indistinguishable
and here I am
melting boundaries together.
This flesh losing all animation and
my soul murmuring the last bars
of this bitter ballad;
a hoarse voice taming words
that were never meant
to be given a home.
I'm afraid I was sewn seamless
and you, without forgiveness
unraveled every snare
I placed around this heart.
y'all, I'm in a mood.
Nov 2018 · 462
11:30 PM
arizona Nov 2018
in these shared words
everything finds purpose;
reaching beyond our reality
I willingly
collapse into dreams borrowed
Nov 2018 · 9.8k
arizona Nov 2018
I elbowed the universe
when I saw it flirting
with you as if I wasn’t
also capable of
sunrises and waterfalls.
These shifting continents
tried to pull you away
so with these hands of purpose
I began shifting the stars
to draft love letters
left above for all to see that
I can outworld this earth,
our sun and
the relentless seas
all asking to touch your skin
just as much as
Next page