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camps Jan 14
words on paper airplanes now stalled out
in an electric stasis
shocking like when your blue eyes peered out
and made me realize that

holding hands on twenty fifth felt warm
like morning coffees pouring blessings
the lotion dotting sleepy faces
hung pretty as art on empty walls
trails of roses shaping your lips red
marked the rooms so stuffed with memories
the spasms in your sleep would cry out like
crackles of fires burning bright for us
brushing your hair with lamplight so sweet
showed the comfort of nights staying in
for you these eastern trains voyage north
and surrender to the belonging

you didn't just feel cozy
you felt so much like home
alyssa | nyc
camps Jan 2022
the tips of my fingers have grown mouths
and now all they do is complain about
not being able to see
you see
i'd give them eyes but
i swapped them all for the tiles
better suited for the triple letter
there's a rabbi rappelling down the
face of a mountain that looks like him
but still lets him down
he'll ***** you i swear
just hanging on the cliff
by the noose of suspense
you just have to give him a minute
feeling's overrated so
cue the parting lovers
i gave my fingers eyes
but took away their mouths
i showed them you and
now they seem like they wish
they'd never seen at all
a fair trade to have their lips again
and say what they want to say
re-sharing some of my older work

poem taken from my book 'anywhere but here'
Oct 2021 · 191
camps Oct 2021
those teeth that sparkle
and a pair of pretty lips
elixirs of you
thought i'd share another haiku
Oct 2021 · 920
camps Oct 2021
****** mary gold
a crucifix to run from
sawdust on the streets
a haiku about my homeland
Jun 2021 · 1.0k
s t a r s
camps Jun 2021
please hang me in the silence opposite your kisses
and make me wish the stars were alive
so that i can watch them burn trails on your skin
the echoes of a universe long disappeared
they're a reminder that i too would spend a lifetime
to reach you
who would they meet if they met you
camps May 2021
a breeze scatters the ashes from my cigarette
all over my legs and onto the ground
now they make tiny mountains of rubble
along with burning villages where it's lights out
before their inhabitants could even think
of worshipping the sun

parting lovers never have much to say
but i think i'll write their names somewhere
and forge my signature on a love letter meant
for an ocean that is inexhaustibly rocking
while cursing the moon for always pushing it away
when it's just trying to fill her craters

the spoils of history go towards making
impermanent things permanent on things
impermanent like the arms of those unknown
and like my backpack swallowing pens
maybe it wouldn't happen if we stopped
romanticizing the ink

my body falls in pieces from the heavens while
you're on earth mingling with the best of them
and it's not until halfway through a cosmopolitan
that you realize you forgot to catch me and
now the ants on the ground are getting stuck
on a love that could have been

have you ever noticed the shape of hearts
gives them a symmetry that makes them
capable of being folded and neatly tucked away
out of all the people you've met in your life
how many of them would you reach in your pocket
and unfold one for

if there's a reason i've melted it's because
my cigarette tastes an awful lot like you
new version of an older poem

from my book anywhere but here
camps May 2021
going outside nowadays is just a game of
who can hold their breath the longest and of
looking for reasons to pass the time in your
own backyard but the gardens i see are only for
the literary muses haunting writers into submission
and for digging up holes with plastic shovels and
for wishing that i could pick up the daisies
and place them in your hair

i was in the middle of drawing a circle when
my arm quivered and now the line shoots
way past the paper and it's currently
undulating over my desk and zooming past
a caterpillar that's contemplating whether the
process of becoming beautiful would actually
make him beautiful when he already knows
that he is beautiful

i hope the god i pray to forgives me for
making all the lines i write be about you
this poem makes me picture a certain someone
title inspired by a certain somewhere

from my new book anywhere but here
camps Aug 2018
lightning may never strike twice in the same place
but i hope you do

right where you make me feel alive
camps Mar 2018
my heart nearly stopped every time i had to cross the street
so let’s thank the queen for writing it down
before she’s just another thing i have to step over
all the rest have tickled my feet so far
and everything under construction reminds me that these days
the only remedy seems to be better luck and more cloud cover

i’ve been racing to crash on the couch
just to wake up to see if i have time for it all
and i want the stereotype to be true so i have nothing to cry about  
with the way things are going
you’d tell me not to be so brutal to myself
but the thrill i used to know is now paying its dues to the concrete

i was almost convinced i wasn’t asleep
when she whispered paris
nothing, everything may have changed
so this is not like anything i’ve never meant:

my heart nearly stopped with the regret of not talking to you
it's hard killing birds when you don't have any stones and
besides this time i think i've really done it
two days and this is already my favorite story but
second chances don't have to be so mysterious
maybe i just wanted to see you smile again

i should have said it w/o one of and the s after the L
still choosing o over x
and your pull showed my hands a home in the back of your denim
two across the channel makes the significant not so, if you want it
i’ll keep looking for you so long as you
don’t stop drawing me maps

if i died in my indecision then
your mouth showed me heaven
you’re the closest thing to purpose
i’ve ever tasted

i wish you knew how much i mean that
natacha | london, england
camps Feb 2018

i want to buy these mice a home so
that their presence helps keep the table clear
i think i’ll place it in the gap between the door and the floor
in the hopes of keeping the noise out and
of having at least one of us feel
a sense of being welcome

the paper bags in my hands wouldn’t feel
heavy if they knew where they were going maybe
and hitting my head against the bed again doesn’t stop me from
showing off the letters on my chest although
i’ve been known to miss the mark

if there's a spark in her eyes it’s 'cause she stole the light from mine
but i like the cold because it makes me feel alive

my favorite part comes around
when the two trains meet and for a second
i can catch a glimpse of everyone’s place in the world
before we’re whisked away to
our respective loneliness

or maybe it’s where the streets
run narrow like those in the places where
connection, if anything, tastes a bit more genuine
it's quite polarizing but this time i’ll seek
comfort in the grey of it until it
all comes rushing back

they say home is where the heart is so this probably still isn’t it
but it will do for now

[new york city] | [definition of home] | [pursuit of cold]

— The End —