Sweat pours from the places where my bones meet
My eyes shut against the glare of oil on asphalt
The wind carries whispers of rain, makes the leaves dance and fall
My skin radiates and tightens as I walk
Cars trundle past and around me, I hear them make their way
And I think about my mom, and about food, and about showering when I get home
This isn't a poem, is it
It's just me

Much to do,
and
no way to do it.
nodding your head
you say,

I

like the way you
only sing
very
early in the morning.

you
only sing when I'm
up.

The sea is milk
And I am soap
White wash it all
And paint new pictures

My words are free and instant magic
Watch them fall across the air and swim away
Carried on the currents of wind and passing time
Spare me the tragic belittling truth today
I am watching words fly

I called the shots until I realized
I was shooting all my friends.

Every yea for the nay
Keeps everything in balance

I spend my big wishes on everlasting abundance
But keep my earnest ones saved for love
Not romantic but sturdy as houses
Love

Happy thanksgiving
Waiting for the two ten hour shifts
And two nine hour shifts
And the paycheck which means rent
And I'm sitting in this black cloth chair
Playing a game about survival
And feeling like I can't wait to survive
The next two months
And then the next year
Praying to any God that might listen
That I might live for the next ten, maybe even twenty years,
And learn all the things I've patiently been waiting
To learn.

So happy thanksgiving,
I am thankful to be alive,
But **** it,
No where vast is there true peace,
As our nation briefly rejoices in one another,
Before waking up yet again to
Chaos
And collapse.

Karma rolls around
You probably have not slaughtered any indengionous people with your own born hands
But your genetics probably have,
In some fashion,
Along the way.
This turkey day,
I urge you to rebel,
And celebrate now,
While remembering the warning screaming
Loud
We have only this,
The stewardship of nature and human empathy,
Don't let them take it away.

It is sudden understanding
Which brings me back to you
Which pushes me back into your arms
And makes me swoon at your eyes
And it is always sudden despair
Which turns me away
And leads me back down a smaller path
That pretends to have never known your name.

I am
25 years old
Looking into the eyes of a man
Who might already know me better
Than anyone I know.
And my heart knows the way
But my mind is clouded with questions
And as he kisses me
I wonder
Who I am now.
Who I am now.

I will escape my body one day
And death will take what's left
But until then
Let's sing each other's praises
Until we're out of breath
And dance in sunlight, and moon light too
Let's drink to more drinks
And write it all down in a book
When all the rubber is worn from the soles of our shoes
our hearts keep beating with syllables and pentameter unspiralling
Even when the blood in our veins stops flowing
Let our souls flow out via the poetry
Kept stuffed in half-filled spiral notebooks perspiring, just
Waiting for you,
And for the you after you,
To live again
In the language of an old life
Speaking dead alive stories
For others to keep inside their own
beating hearts.

I was eleven, the first time I saw you.
I thought you were sweaty, and that your hair was too long.
I had just skipped two straight months of school,
they had told you about me and I hated that.

I was twelve, the first time I met you.
I remember my classmates were uninspired
and equally uninspiring.
I wrote things for you, I wanted you to know that
I wasn't like them.
I not only thought things through, I couldn't stop.
I wrote to keep from going crazy.

You showed me your plays,
your poetry,
your short stories.
You showed me college english textbooks
full of various prose,
each one flavored slightly differently.

You showed me The Giver,
and Dead Poet's Society.
I wondered if you really fancied yourself
the captain,
leading your charges into vast fields of knowledge,
and what's more,
appreciation for the knowledge.

You were the teacher that made kids
want to teach.
You looked after me.
Made sure I was fed.
Signed me up for extra credit,
even when I said no.
You showed me what it was like
to have someone's support.
You showed me love.

When I went to high school
we stopped talking,
except for the occasional email.
But I had a boyfriend
And I smoked ***
And I didn't want
to let you down.

When I graduated, I sent you an email.
Explained everything.
I begged to see you,
to talk about all that happened.
You never replied.

You died the week before I received my diploma.
Since then,
I've been going off of soundbite bits of advice
you once gave me,
trying always to remind myself that I can do this,
because
you showed me.