i.

impressionist,
where the grey
clouds and the blue
ice of winter
gather their ghosts,

winter, too cold,
too white, the
woodland hollows
dent,
summer love

discarded in
the frost,

the sky oaken,
the moon’s forget-me-knots
silvery dream.

ii.

clouds like wintery steel,
sunken, in a night pool,
the golds of my heart,

the lodestar gathers
moss and rook,
glimmers in a sky
of woven cloth,
her leaves, the trees
of winter,
her leaves, the dark
breath of the storm.


iii.

winter and quiet stars
brooding emperor
sleeping in the twilight
hour,
winter dreams of
strange ice caverns
where ice ghosts
dance with twisting
hair.

iv.

pond of ice,
snow bear,
snow dream,

sleep unwraps

wide avenues of
trees,

sleep, the dark girl,
the falling tide.

v.

twig breaks under foot,
earth’s thrones
settle in the lizardy light

the moon rises in the sky,
soft centuries of sky.

We are sitting in your car, and we are quiet.
The sun has set and the only illumination is the streetlights of the city I've told you I wanted to show you since the day we met.
For once, we are not holding hands.
Three hours prior we were staring at one another across the top of a table at Qdoba and you assured me things were working out. You assured me that we could continue as we were. This wasn't goodbye.
I assured me you weren't forcing those words, yet three hours later, as we are leaving the city I never got to show you, you are not looking at me.
The day before I would not hesitate to say I love you.
The day before, I would not doubt your touch.
The day before, I explained to you that I do not say "goodbye" when planning to see someone again. "Goodbye" is too permanent a term, "goodbye" is when you can't promise you'll come back.
Now, we are sitting in my basement and you lie on the couch.
I am sitting on the floor.
You're looking at your phone as I look for something to watch on the TV, and you do not seem to care what.
I look for something for you.
As it plays and you watch, I watch how quickly we are fading.
My heart yearns to show to you that I believe we are worth this, but just like the sun faded from the sky and we were overcome by the night sky,
it seemed the light had faded from your eyes and you no longer saw the sky in mine.
I attempt to make my way beside you on the couch, and I soon realize that there's no longer room in your life for two.
I found myself memorizing each freckle on your face,
I found myself remembering the shades of blue your eyes kaleidoscope into when hit by the sun.
I found myself wondering just when they might see sun again,
as I could tell they no longer shone when looking at me.
It was then that I realized my heart was no longer full of love,
it was empty from the lack of reciprocation.
You looked at me as though I held the answers to everything you'd ever asked,
but I feel as though you quickly realized I was an issue, outdated.
You left about midnight.
I kissed you as you left, and I thanked you for coming.
You assured me it wasn't a problem.
I told you that I loved you,
and you told me you loved me, too.
You said "goodnight,"
and for the first time,
I said
*"goodbye."

stranger's bedroom
stranger's house
familiar kisses
from a stranger's mouth


l.r.

here’s a truth: i think your love
has spoiled me rotten.
i’ve taken to driving around at night
and visiting all the places we used to go
as if they’re crime scenes;
paying my respects
as if to the dead.
i’m searching for proof, somewhere,
that you loved me,
as if places could hold memories,
as if miles flying under my tires
could make you love me again.

i am seeing another boy
and you know this.
he is rough where you were gentle,
he is selfish when you were caring.
i am trying to force him
into the place you left behind,
jamming together puzzle pieces that don’t fit;
i wish i could say i don’t know why i’m wasting my time
but the truth is, being wanted by someone,
anyone,
is the next best thing
to being wanted by you.

here’s another truth:
so far, loving you has been the greatest thing i have ever done,
the greatest thing i have achieved,
the purest, most noble part of me.

read it as my eulogy: i did nothing great, except for loving you.
that’s what i want to be remembered for.

It's not illegal to sprinkle lemon juice
in a healing wound, but it's not recommended.

The clatter of silverware rattles the piercings
of a tattooed barista battling a vexatious morning.

Iced caramel lattes, incarcerated by
serrated coffee beans, sleep alone at night.

A half-empty cup of 2% screams at a
of glass skim milk for acting obnoxiously drunk.

One squirrel scorns another for
stealing its spiked acorns last fall.

A lonely poem twists and turns
through disappointing images of life.

At the end of the road there's a mirror
reflecting an absent feeling of satisfaction.

I lost myself inside your being
was too emotional, unseeing
what your actions brought,
after all they did turn out to be the things I sought.

I'm back to my old ways and left
insecurity and frightening thoughts
behind. The dots, connected, lots
of training, perfected in a deft

and mesmerizing manner.
Once again I wear my banner
high with pride and modesty as one.

Raise your hand if you still believe,
release your hands from both your sleeves
and get it done.