an element of light slips though the cracks
in this worn, beaten mast
with its aching floorboards & my
creaking starboard heart.
& the wind whips through the sails
just as my aching soul ails
for the same vicissitude--
though it is caught in this sea of stagnancy.
--
this ship:
it asks for weather,
it pleads for the storm,
if only in attempt to be washed ashore.
[something new, something unexplored.]
lo, but it is caught in this mesmerizing estuary,
entangled in the tides of your sea,
& in all the efforts I make to escape from your deep,
I always feel as though I’m swimming upstream.

i watched the leavesfall today—

and the windwhip through the crunching grasses…

you were there, too:

in the warmth i felt in my sweatersleeves

& in the way i feel lucky when my bootheelsclickthrice.

yes, you were there,

& i felt the warm breath of your sorrowful farewell

in the changing of the season.

When the
song bird
is gone;
when the
evening chills
settle in
your bones;
when the
hills are
too high;
when the
waters are
too deep -

the world
needs you
to let
your light
shine.

We never spoke words,
we only compiled songs.

We understood every connotation
behind every tune.

The way I look at it,
a mixed tape is a poem.
Each song is a stanza,
every note is a feeling,
and every emotion
is in perfect likeness with the one who sent it.

a place on my spine still hums
from when you touched it last.
for it was the first time you revealed
that you wanted more than what we had--
as if you were standing at the ocean's edge,
dipping your fingers beneath the waves
to determine if it was warm enough to jump in.
so cautious,
yet hungering to be consumed
in the possibility of deluge.
come closer, you urged:
your fingers pressed in the shoal of my back,
and the tide pulled you in.

California stones turned up

to reveal the night-growing moss beneath—

Not much left to say

when we’re on top of Nebraska

and looking out,

into the passing sunrise.

But the way your sleepy, pillow-wrinkled cheeks reflect

the thoughts with which you have wrestled

speaks more than I know

we’re both too afraid to say.

-

So I will simply take this journey for what it is,

in attempts to not keep myself up at night

or to learn how to discover the beauty

in a moment unexplained.

There lies a small red planter

within the hollows of my chest:

Though it forbids all weeds to wander,

it still festers, nonetheless.

For the dirt inside my lungs

once froze in seasons past,

and the sun had not burned bright enough,

transforming beauty to barren casts.

But on this night I feel a stir—

not a bang, but yet, a whimper—

your hands held earth and held it close,

and buds bloom within the planter.

-

And as I listen to your breathing

whilst you tend the grove once more,

your soul sobs raindrops across my chest

and my heartstring roots are torn.

I want you to know

with total assurance

that I am okay

and that this is sufficient for me

in this moment.

-

I also find myself

wanting to know that

you, dear long lost friend,

are also well,

and that the memories that swing from your rear-view mirror

will always bring you nothing but joy

and not an ounce of sorrow or regret

Let us keep our fondest memories
clutched close to our chests.

For if they are lost,
the wind will sweep them away
or the sea will toss them into its abysmal blue.

Rather, let us tie them to the laces of our shoes -
              and take them always with us.
Tattoo them onto our intellects -
              and reminisce upon them often.
Lock them in our hearts
              Do not let them die until they
              all
              stop
              beating.

Do you know what infinity feels like?

It feels
Like rain rushing through your veins.
Like fire in your fingertips.
Like the scent of opportunity.
Like an earthquake is wrestling every brick of apprehensivity out of your bones.
Like a scream is stretching its arms out to reach for life outside of your body.

So you have to respond.

You have to
Drive at 80 mph with your best friend or lover when it’s too late at night to feel responsible.
Roll down the windows.
Turn up your stereo as loud as it goes.
Close your eyes and shut them tight.
Stretch your arms out the windows.
Tilt your head back.
Sit still.
And let it trample you like a stampede.

As you sit still, you must take it all in.

Embrace living in that perfect moment.
Embrace being who you are.
Embrace knowing that person in the driver’s or passenger’s seat.
Embrace love.
Embrace music.
Embrace the night.
Embrace being alive.

And let go.