Of all the ways
I’ve watched the world
Fail to take flight

The worst is my own

what if the sky went pink
and the birds stopped their chirping
if the world stopped its turning
what if i took your hand
and pulled you closer
if i held you forever
what if i kissed you then?
just before the sun slept
before the crickets sang
and important things
began to happen?
what if
what if we had that moment
that one second
of just
us?

I haven't had my heart broken.
But I have thrown it against another person
and broke it myself.

He would've looked handsome in wedding photos,
but even more in a suit and tie
on the other side of the divorce court.

He would roll up his sleeves like a lawyer.
He would say things like:
You ruined my life when you got pregnant.

As if babies were something a woman conjured inside
herself out of lovesickness and desperation.
A snare in which to trap a man like him.

But instead I broke myself on him like surf on the ramparts.
I foamed and spat and washed myself right back
out to sea again.

And all I have is a notch on my map, marking
a shallow harbor,
a few torn sails
and an empty womb.

Some are friendly and like to be kissed,
Some are lonely with cuts on  their wrist,
But some have found,
When a man is around,
That it's surprisingly easy to walk into a fist.

keep your eyes closed love.

           e     t      
       m           i
    o                 m
s                        e  
                            s     all you have to
                                                                ­
                                                                ­ l                  to is what the sound
                                                           ­      i            n
                                                  ­                s           e
                                                               ­          t

                                                              ­                               v
                                                               ­                         a        e
                             ­                                          of the  w               s
                                                               ­                                       
                         ­                                                                 ­            tells  you
                                                                ­                                        to do.

i always have
the urge to run.

but what is it like
to be a tree?

to be confident enough
to root yourself
and grow with
wild abandonment,
being unapologetically
you?

i'm still running,
but i wish i knew.

I paddle as he talks
Of life, and the veil just behind it
The water plops as he plods,
On about the things humans never deserved
Saying we have no true structure, style, or word
All is annihilated by the Absurd
Yet with his nugget of knowledge in mine
I paddle on