I overflow, I absorb,
I push, I retreat — and then
I pour it out.
I gave myself names,
So, I took on forms,
Types, meanings,
Traits I had never worn before —
Unlikely mutations.
The end was
The Beginning of Everything.

II
I materialized,
Threading time and space onto myself.
I exploded,
Giving birth and dying —
In multiverses.

III
I budded through fractals,
Creating illogical gravities.
Where there was supposed to be no life —
Angular feelings emerged,
Flattened stars,
Ellipsoidal planets...

Until Human Beings appeared.

IV
Then everything changed.
They began to put me in boxes
Shouting with anger:
“My Faith!”
“Your Philosophy!”

And yet I am everything:
Existence in non-existence,
A colorful flash,
Undulating silence,
A sigh that screams.

V
Drink me,
Eat me piece by piece,
Discover me — but don't defend yourself
Against denial,
Consequences
And mistakes
When you see a wall in front of you.

VI
Don't take yourself away —
Because YOU ARE
Also, in that
In which you sink

Your Gaze

Your Hearing

Your Thoughts.

We stepped into teens, side by side,
Into adulthood, still the same stride.
Through every hardship, storm, and weather,
I still wish we see success together.

Not as a couple, not as a sibling,
A bond too rare, beyond all limiting.
I don’t know what to call this part,
But you’ll always be my idiot at heart.

I used to think I kept you like a secret.

Is it a secret if no one knows it’s being kept?
Maybe I’ll never know, but
if I did have the chops to say it out loud,
I’d tell them that
I have dreams about that plane ride.
I’d take the 6AM flight just so
the colors of the sunrise would
chase me for a thousand miles.

I’d sip my hot coffee
with too much cream at
my window seat and
make small talk with
the older woman seated beside me.
She has a kind face and
takes this flight often to visit her
son and his family.
(He relocated for work,
but couldn’t pass up the salary.)
She’d ask if I’m coming or going.
“I’m not sure yet,” I’d reply, and
offer to buy her a drink,
as I revel in and relive
every crumb of our story with her.
It’s a good one, I think.
(And she thinks so too.)
She places her hand on mine, and,
with the sincerest of smiles,
wishes me well on my adventure.

She’s always there, and I like her.

I dream that baggage claim is
a ghost town, but I
recognize your eyes beyond the carousel
before I recognize my own blue suitcase.
Sometimes you have flowers in your hand,
but you always have a hug.

There’s excitement and understanding in it—
a relief that teeters on tears
and lips that waited for so long
to whisper, “Finally.”
And I feel so safe and found.
I’m at home
in a place I’ve never been before—
in arms that have never held me.

My blue suitcase— still circling.

I laugh, and I can’t wait to tell you
that I dream of you in color.
I quickly give you instructions
on how to find me again
in case we get lost.
I tell you dream flights are cheaper
if you’re in bed before 9PM.
I don’t know if you hear me,
but before I can ask,
I’m awake.

I’m alone.

You’re my secret again.
The secret I’ve never told.
BWI direct to XNA.

delphinium migrant blue,
and into night
we follow,
toward the residue
of morning,
where there's no time
limit to grief.

you wake with
electric intervals,
something's wrong
with yesterday,
in your head are
galaxies like grains of salt,
and they fill up the sky.

these red metallic balloons,
that come to you
when you are ripped open,
whether it’s by pain
and heartache
or you’re falling in love,
these you can’t close
yourself off to.

but what you actually want
is to bypass them,
and try to reach that
dawn serenade,
which is floating
above them,
as if golden electric ribbons
which don’t
demand repayment.