Two grey sneakers
On a narrow, dirt,
Forgotten path.

An indescribable,
Unbearable urge:

To run away.
To have it.
The boy,
The girls,
The dog.

The house
With a roast
In the oven,
An aroma of carrots
In the air.

Leaves colored
And falling.
A fire going.

No where to be
And be happy about it.
What a dream,
What a dream.

In the night
When eyes do not shut
She rides ships
That no longer sail
Explores waters
Unknown or Forgotten
Remembers that the moon
Is a reflection of the Sun
Rises oceans
Always waving
Goodbye

He says I'm a catch.
I say, "Like corona?"
And laugh contagiously
But he doesn't catch it.

When I fell for him
He wasn't watching.
I just scraped my knees,
And got dirt in my blood.

A small house in the back woods
With an overgrown tree house - he's a southern boy.

We watch a kid ride a bucket
Attached to a skateboard, and we laugh

Into the wind and walk our way
Towards a sunset. You say this is the place

This neighbor and that neighbor
Argued over, so it's no one's

But it's everyone's. Besides that tree
Right there, which is strictly off limits

So we plop our butts by the water
And stare into the sound,

Admiring the shells of your childhood
Memories staring back at you

Like the time you were sixteen
Cruising on an ankle-biting scooter

And we make out as if the bulkhead
Is a run-down gymnasium bleacher.

We stare into the sky as if it's our first time,
Comfortable and happy, just feeling right

While the sun slowly sinks into the water
And the sky blazes us a bonfire,

While I slowly sink back into you.

What joy:

To hold
The world
In your arms -

Alive and warm
And soft
And breathing

Chest rising
And falling
Yet rising again

Always rising,
Like the golden
Dawn, consistent,

Always bright.
Always beautiful.
Somehow,

In my arms
Against the odds
I'm holding light.

I've never been good at hellos.
There is something heavy
In holding conversations
For weeks, or months, or years
Under the notion that some day,
Goodbye will come.

When Goodbye comes I'm never ready,
But I always try to be.
I am 10 minutes late for our date
Taking all of the wrong roads
Just hoping to throw Goodbye off my track.
I release the butterflies in my stomach
In effort to protect my delicate parts
From Goodbye. I fill their void with letters.
Like the giant chocolate ones
You got me on Valentine's day
That spelled "YOU CUTE."
Then, my biggest fear was you
Asking me to stick around. How ironic.
I take L's and the O's and the V's and the E's
And the G O O D B Y E's
Sitting so patiently on the tip of my tongue and swallow them
Unit they're so jumbled
That I forget the difference between the two.
I slur them all together, misconstrued.

You deserve better. I'm sorry.
I know it is not lovely to try to hold
Someone who is on lockdown.
I am scared of what I might catch
If I open that door.
Or worse, who I might lose.

And so I stay silent.
I pull up my mask and
Sit my back against the door
Listening to the lovely way you
Knock. Knock. Knock.
I'll pass you jumbled romance notes
Through the cracks, and you'll smile.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
But you won't understand
Knock. Knock.
How much you mean to me
Knock.
Because I will not open the door
Until you are gone.

when i tell my mom
"i have a date tonight"
she has one comment:
"whatever you do,
DON'T wear THAT
old sweater
with the geese all over
or THOSE
brown horse hoove shoes
CLANGING like the kentucky derby
with each step
those ones that the bottoms fell out of"
i sigh, wrap the phone cord around my neck
HANG it up, on the shelf
my hope, dignity, cares, whatever
LOOK, a chest
masked by geese flock
feet turned to hooves
a MATING DISPLAY
that only ever works
the lady in the mirror
when she looks
she sees the tips of mountain tops
etched in leather
is taken back to times
where the only sound
was the clank of boots on ground
        the scrape of rocks
        sun on face
where the only sound
was geese on the water
        no where else to be
        but right here, right now
where the only sound
was the ooh and aahs
         of my best friend
         with a big pearly smile
         when i dug it out
         of the giant blue bin
         at the pay-by-the-pound
         laughing while we spun
         theories of eldery ladies
         of its PAST
she mouths to me
"i like your birdleneck"
i mouth to her
"i like you"
and walk out the door

he swallows her.

slowly, then all at once.
presses his lips to her cheeks to
watch the color bleed across her face,
like an ink blot in water
but reversed.
her creator amends his mind
and draws the color from her skin.

she was so lovely.
he imagined what could be
with colors as beauteous as these
and though she begs him not to,
he proceeds.

she screams,
and he is pleased.
he gulps them down in kisses.
drinks her last breaths down
like the finest Cabernet
that ran dry on her birthday.
her nails scratch prophecies in his back,
possess him until becomes a wolf
in the moon-like whites of her glossy eyes.
he is wild. he breaks bread and
***** the marrow from her bones.
a sweet slaughter, splendid sacrifice.
her colors dripping down his face
a perfect masterpiece.

A reading from the book of Ashlyn, daughter of Mark.

In the name of my Father
(Who art in Heaven, hallowed be thy name):
Ritual calls a lighter to a cigarette
It pulls the calloused flesh of its thumb over the metal striker
Igniting the air it breathes, exciting a dull glow
A puff of recognition lays down on the exhale
Soon there will be ashes. It settles like smoke.

When the smoke settles
The Room is void.
The walls move in and
Swallow him holy, moving in
Relentless rythmic contraction
A chorus of prayer, annointing the sick
Let us paint crosses in the ashtray.

"Ahhhhh-men."

coughing

In the name of the daughter:
He tries to avoid the ritual,
But the chants persist
He is a sinner.
Only blood can cleanse him
He partakes

May the Spirit be with you.
"And also with you."
We lift our glasses to the Lord.
"It is right to give Him thanks and praise."

The room goes silent.
Observation of prayer.

In the name of the Holy Spirit:
The blood of Christ compels a drink
The spirit makes my father new
He is no longer man.
Now, he is exorcised by the spirit.
Praise be to God in his slurred speech
And peace to this person on earth
His sunken eyes. His swollen belly.
God, is he your Mary?
Is this your beautiful creation? Your masterful plan?
God, am I your son? I think so.
I stretched my arms out to you.
It seems you left me hanging.
You, the only father who has ever forsaken me. Why?

I am waiting for
Now to be over. When it
Is, then what happens?

Soul, you're getting old.

You are tired, worn-out
Dance shoes with a hole
In the toe,

Each tap a tick of time
Unnoticed in
The beating of this body,
The wearing of this sole.

Swaying to songs,
Smiling and spinning,
Spewing lyrics into space
As if the aliens are listening.

on mornings
when the sun
bundles in blankets

she paints poems
with brushes
that flow
from sky to earth

a salutation
to the sun
a display of
intention: to

find solace
in ocean sounds
and dogs playing
in every direction

plant trees
of every season
with swaying branches
and flower tops

right now
the only rush
is the sound
of breath

what matters
is the light
in me
in you
the connection between
and the intention
that today..
namaste.

Turkey vultures perch in their trees -
On two different branches,
In two different trees
Of the same kind.
Two black dots in a pale blue sky.
Each looking past the other one
From their own vantage.
Unfamiliar to the shape
Of their own beak. They do not beckon.
No motive. They will not become
Anything out of the ordinary.
They sit and wait for life to happen,
Or rather, for it to not. Call it oppurtunity.
They flutter their wings and soar
Only towards death. When they find it,
Tearing the flesh from the bone,
Devouring the innards in ghastly gulps,
Pecking til the bones are bare
And their stomachs are full.

it is sixty degrees
the sun on your skin

you have nowhere to be
and everywhere to go

not a cloud in the sky,
not a bump in the road

just this moment
just this sliver of heaven

just your feet on the pedals
your eyes on the horizon

unspoken joy, an effortless smile
wheels turning forward motion