sit criss crossed
the back of a station wagon you've known
for as long as you can remember
a backpack perched on your lap
because it's comforting
a shield of sorts
the radio whistles with you
and hums
the sun is at such an angle
it's only sometimes blinding
out the window are the same trees
and they remind you of the same people and things
nothing really ever changes
this used to frustrate me
but things can't change until you appreciate them
i think
taking in the sights i've already taken in
taking in the sunlight really
i've never done this before
no one has
we're taking life as it comes
and, now
my life is at such an angle
it's only blinding sometimes.
i need to open my eyes for the rest.

the average lifespan of a butterfly is one month
but mine have been in flight for five years, now
they must be composed of some kind of magic
they skipped the cocoon
started flying the moment i heard you could
dance
i always thought
my butterflies were fluttering to escape but
maybe they just want to
dance
too.

I knew a someone once
who walked into and out of my life at leisure
few words exchanged,
knowing glances made up our strange vocabulary

but lacking words,
our language was limited
no glance translated to goodbye.

not because goodbye wasn't important,
but because we both would rather do without
that certain finality, it wasn't how
we wished
to part ways

and in that emptiness where goodbye should have been,
was the goodbye that could have been

A curve of the lips
a flash of teeth
a sweet smile
that sticks
onto my eyes
for a very
very long time

I wish my tongue did curl in a way
to make my words roll simply off it.
That my extremities may move as
freely as my mind commands them
to do so.

I wish my fingers did not flinch
at the electricity inside of others.
That my heart may be steady
and not frighten me with incessant
speed. I wish it were not so
insistant.

I wish the whites of my eyes
did not surround such wide dark rounds.
That your stare could not incite
such an energy through the tips
of my fingers.

I wish this shivering were out of chill
and not admiration.
That this may be simpler.

We fool ourselves into believing
we can see without correction.
I tried to look too far, my eyes strained,
and it worked, but in seeing ahead, in seeing distantly,
what lie in front of my squinting irises remained a blur

"If you keep your face like that it'll stick that way."

I've been looking at the same flower for years now.
It looks the same but there is some aspect
which my squint cannot determine, it seems,
that changes after every passing blink.

Having eyes locked on a flower is a funny business
it first shone by its beauty, but, a short blink later
the petals seem to fall under their weight
as if taking a periodic breath, and releasing into a calmer state.

Looking at something for long enough stops hurting after a while.
It becomes symbiotic, the flower seems to stare back, even lacking eyes.
And that's where the crack in the wall begins,
believing a flower to have eyes.

It goes wrong when the flower appears to be looking back
It seems real in thought, but reality tells a different story,
as it always does.
thought and reality are not closely linked, unfortunately
and this makes flowers somewhat fantastical.
and of course it is easy to enjoy their fragrance, or rich color,
but once you have locked eyes with a flower, once your face gets

stuck that way...

you can't look away
and it will wilt, imaginary eyes and all.

tu es le vent.
le vent qui cherche
le vent qui me regarde
le vent qui vas quelque part.
le vent éphémère.
le vent dont je peut écouter.
Mais, pas le vent qui est visible.
pas le vent qu'on peut toucher.
Et ça, c'est d'accord
avec moi.

I have read poems about springtime
everything they say is true
the whole season explained in rhyme
every detail uncovered,
except you.

The proof is all here.
Circumstantial evidence, but no fingerprints
yet.

The cherry left in the corners of my lips
reminds me that nothing lasts as a whole
but drops of cherry juice get left behind.
And the drops are sweet.

Red.
The proof is all red.
My cheeks, flushed with summer and something else
Red shoes that leave behind a certain springtime.
My cherry creases.
But no blood,
never.

The circumstantial proof,
in this circumstance
may lead to a different conclusion
than it would have before
because circumstances has changed
along with the seasons
along with our hearts
along with the projected path in my mind.
A hologram of the futures
and pasts I am still waiting for.

The universe is speaking
it's speaking very fast
and I can only catch the occasional word
I'm not sure when
Ill be able to catch up.

It is a spiral spinning down
a marble at the top
a gentle tap
a long way down.
It the journey, they say
it's in how you interpret the abyss.
We're all spinning, though
the sun in its place
the planets elliptical
the tears soaked up by your pillow
are spreading with equal velocity
as the earth.
When things topple down, the rest follows
things that you thought you didn't care about
things you thought were forgotten
people, friends, could-have-beens,
cardboard crates labelled "future" get lost in the storm
entropy, really.
Meaning the pieces are of a puzzle made to be destroyed.
And the ephemeral nature of the future
is something we have to embrace,
for, though it is a long way down,
there is no abyss here.
Just damp pillows and a lost soul clinging to a marble
just like the rest.
Pining away
yearning for a gentler tap.

It's nice
to be sad
about the same
old things

i thought
i was over
i was done
plans foiled
again by fate

a heavenly visitor
in a lab coat
felt my heart
and said it was strong-
er than i believed

yet here i am
sad
but it's nice
to be sad
again about the same
old things.

i love
volcanoes

even mighty man
cannot halt the flow
of molten earth
the plume
of ash and fury
no roads, no condominium
will be constructed
on the pile of
untouchable mountain

He slept in that bed
long before I came into
the picture
navy blue sheets
golden brown bedposts.
I could always run my fingers
along the wall that connected us at night
his steady breath a steady
reminder
that all was well,
all was normal.


He came home from school
my parents around the dining table
shifting weight, waiting.
A letter with letters, words
of navy blue and shining gold.
Congratulations we are pr…


Smiling, embracing
          mind racing
We still had precious months…
Until liftoff.


Gazing at the bed
tired eyes
foggy with 3 am,
now foggier with tears.
His steady breath
a comforting metronome
lulled me to rest on the cool
hardwood floor
The room was warm,
full, occupied
with steady breaths,
cardboard boxes and love.


The car flew away before I could put my shoes on.
through the dust
“I couldn’t see the permanence.”
I waved
I waved until my arm burned hot
enough to evaporate the falling water from my eyes.
“If I closed my eyes
I wouldn’t see him go.”

Gazing at the bed.
tired eyes.
foggy with 4 pm
now foggier with emptiness.
He left a dent in the mattress
a comforting mold
I tried to fit
Tried to fill the space left behind.
The room was gusty,
empty, vacant,
with distant breaths,
dust and new negative space.

He slept in that bed
long before I came into
the picture
navy blue sheets
golden brown bedposts.
I could always run my fingers
along the wall that connected us at night.

The wall has swelled, hallowed.
I still trace it
listening,
waiting
for the void to narrow.

It exists as a shadow would in a dark room.
Impalpable, invisible
yet the air feels darker there, heavier.
It follows me making footsteps that never touch the floor.
Silent, inaudible
yet I feel the air shift after each pace.
It touches me somehow, without informing my skin.
Cold, internal
yet I feel the bumps emerge on my chilled forearms.


I have been trying to capture it
years spent looking over my shoulder
It knows where my eyes end
It hides in the unreachable crook in my back.
It sings
the songs
I once knew
the words to.

Each day passes
in front of out eyes we wait
for the minutes
but remember the hours

Our moods do rise and fall
faster than the    sun    ever does
but we have some bad days, some   good
we measure our moods with the          stars

Frequent walks are less frequently followed
by memories of the road
we remember we walked
we wonder where we went

And so it is that we read a poem,
the words tickle our tired eyes
yet when the words come to a hault
we are left with a feeling, no recollection of     punctuation.

Enjoy the days
remember the minutes

look to the sun
remember the earth on which you stand

walk for hours
remember your route

read until your eyes drift closed
remember each comma.

The cool gray

of the days you choose

to stay inside

to watch the world

falling in capsules

from the clouds

the color of the days

you see

where your tears go

after falling from your cheek.

"Alright y'all we're going to do a show for you"
clap clap clap the twelve year old boy gives it all he's got
jumping, brushing the passengers
a last ditch effort to eat dinner
don't look, don't make eye contact.
I think about why,
why not?
Ignoring the orders I allow myself to enjoy
the hungry boy's dance
hip hop music playing from a toy boom box
no eye contact?
I look right into the brown eyes of the hungry boy
a mutual smile forms and that's
all
I didn't have any money
I was twelve, too
all I have is a blue monkey backpack containing a rubber duck
and some toy sunglasses even though it's pouring rain, I always carry them
The Subway screeches to a halt at the next stop
the hungry boy swings smiling out the door almost knocking someone down.
I snicker, it was funny
shhhh don't look
but I just put on my toy sunglasses
strap the monkey securely on my back
and smile at strangers.

There's a buzz about the place
an energy radiating from the neon signs, the stone step stoops.
Even the locals
have so much too look at
and more to see.
Being tired is not an option
but on the subway some look as if they've never slept,
the city hasn't either, after all.
It's a place where the avenues are wider than the sky
and the sidewalks all lead somewhere.
People walk fast, and you fall in and out of love in seconds
you notice their glasses, their coats, their shoes
their eyes
darting from building to building
brick to brick
trying to absorb the huge buzzing energy.

Two marbles roll down a plank of wood
they begin close, but without contact
the marbles roll down, opposite directions
all of a sudden the wind changes
they roll side by side scraping each other
a knot, they separate, continuing, both going the same direction
in different paths
their paths never cross again,
they both end up at the bottom of the plank individually
but without that period of togetherness,
without their paths having crossed
they would be where they were.

I've read too many poems to believe in a world without tangible words.

I've seen too many hearts broken to believe anything can last.

I've watched too many shooting stars to believe anyone is really alone.

I've danced to too many slow songs to believe you need a partner.

I've asked too many questions to believe there is a right answer to any of them.

I've watched you laugh too many times to believe we could ever laugh together.

I've been nervous too many times to distinguish between butterflies and wasps.

I've been forgotten too many times to believe you haven't forgotten too.

There’s an aging house across the street
with inhabitants we’ll never meet
a bright blue truck
grass with no luck
tall weeds that look like wheat.

Their christmas lights are inside out
rust is running all throughout
overgrown
with creaks and groans
brown water out the water spout.

Why did you go?

Answer, please... answer.

Go on

why did you

go?

Why did you leave

you left so suddenly the leaves

were still drifting in the breeze

falling leaves falling down while I fell

for your unanswered questions as you darted under the falling maples.

Leaves falling while I fell for you, leaving.

Why did you leave me to fall behind?

Come back... the leaves have fallen.

come back, please... come back.

I wrote your name
and it burned through the paper

I whispered it
and it pierced the thin air

I used to think
that you were my savior

But now I see  
you were never really there.

I have so much to say
but I can't write it down
thoughts are spiraling through my ears and into
my eyes but my hands
cannot translate
the murky, opaque chain of consciousness
weaving in and out of view.
I'm frothing, bubbling
ready to burst, to sing to something.
I'm trying to write words I know but
is a name
a word.
My rule is that I don't write names, it's cheating.
Names are far more powerful than words and name has a story
a background a connotation an emotion a lump in my throat when you stopped staying.
And if "you" is a pronoun and and a name is a proper noun does the extra "per"
mean the name takes up more percent in my mind?
I have so
much
to say.
Nothing is working just words, no proper ones.
I see it. I see what I feel and I feel it. I feel what I see.
I can't write it.
It feels like a warm ocean, unexpected, nice, then suspicious.
It feels like someone took the blood from my veins and replaced it with liquid doubt
now pulsing through every artery.
It feels like a favorite toy being glued back together. Still beloved, but never the same.
It feels like drowning.
It feels like falling.
I have so much to say.
Take my hand.
And help me.
*please

People scale rocks
cliffs
mountains
to look at the world
they left behind.
All that pain
for all that beauty.
It's worth it.
So why are you still
down here.

Ten Words.

Maybe we like the stars
because we see ourselves in them
we see the brilliant light visible to the human eye
but we know they are just hurtling ***** of gas and fire
shooting through the vacuum, no direction
awaiting a spectacular, explosive fate
only to fade into nothing
black like the background
they're not here for any reason other than that they can be here

we're just like the stars.

We were going to fly to planets that didn't have names yet
we were going to dig a hole and swim in the core.
we were going to sink hawaii, but keep the volcanoes
and we were going so settle down
on the side of the moon that only we would see.
we were going to do ballet on top of the pyramids
and wait for the planets to align
so we could **** past them one by one.
we were going to sing in space so nobody could hear us
we were going to invent invisibility
but not tell anyone.
we were going to grow a garden where all the plants had bow-ties for flowers and spaghetti roots.

we were going to slide down the biggest slide
we were going to swing the swings all the way around
we were going to build camelot from the sand in the backyard
we were going to make potions out of dish soap and dish soap out of vegetable oil.

we were going to bed
you were supposed to wake up.

Before the days of modern science
the sun
was a pure white ball of light
when we fused the right filters, though,
we saw the dark spots
the spots hidden by the brilliance
the spots that were there all along
the black blobs of no lights masked by the fire.

And It's the same with you.
For years I saw you as a perfect sun.
A flawless orb of life and light within my grasp.
But I just bought my first pair of sunglasses, polarized, with all the right filters.
You've got more dark spots than I thought.
More tears in your imperfect photosphere
than I could have possibly imagined.

And don't mistake dark spots for scars because scars are places that once were pure
a dark spot
was always missing.

You're missing a lot of pieces.
I'm glad I see that now.

I do not wear dresses very often
so every dress I've ever owned
is still hanging
in order
in my closet.

The first,
whimsical and red
a crimson corduroy triangle
green ribbon
yellow flowers
it was for the first day of preschool
but it was also for every other  day
whimsical and red

The second:
Nutcracker pink
for days in San fransisco
when the matching coat
was necessary.
I used to dance.
Nutcracker pink.

The third:
Barefoot lavender
not the color, the scent.
Blue and french
avec des fleures jaunes.
we caught fish with brie cheese
Barefoot lavendar.

The fourth:
Navy blue didn't match
but we sewed the straps anyway
i made the first mistake
you forgave me for that one
thank you
Navy blue didn't match

The Fifth:
White Surrender.
sprinkled with turquoise
I surrendered
I didn't have to
I didn't want to
I'm sorry.
I don't usually wear dresses
I hope you still realize that.
White Surrender.

Whimsical, Red
Nutcracker Pink,
Barefoot Lavender,
Navy Blue,



White,
surrender.

It's more unlikely to the others
but you are the one
whose mind is slipping
forgetting
the times we had
that weren't defined in anybody's heads but ours but clearly
the grooves in my mind
are deeper
because you walk past
and on a good day you smile
maybe you think the same
but when you didn't remember
yesterday
i knew this was mostly me doing the missing
and maybe you have a bad memory
but i forget things everyday
and i still remember the words
the conversation
the day of the week
feeling my heart pounding in my fingers as i typed
"hi"
two letters that led to two years that led to one year of
something
and we didn't even talk
we laughed we joked
we never talked once
and that's still how it is
nothing has changed
everything is different
and I don't know how I feel about this because I try really hard
but you do not care
maybe it's me
maybe it's my incredible anxiety
keeping me from smiling in your direction
but you
could smile
too.

A purebred lunatic
that's what the girl in the purple tights
was called.
Laughed at for wearing three braids
because one just didn't seem right.
And ignored because English
didn't come first.
She danced through the halls
walking hurt her feet.
Purebred lunatic, they would say.
Thank you, she would reply
a smile, a pirouette,
and the girl with three braids
would disappear.

dreams swirl, tranquil in my mind
sharply interrupted
denial, snooze
realization
chomp chomp chomp
ziiiiip slam
clink beeep
rattle rattle rattle
STOP REQUESTED
groan, unload.
walk fast
eyes low
12...click...13...click...6... open
slam
walk faster, required smiles
ffft jot jot jot
retain it retain it
gone
who is there? oh, you again.
you again?
you...
again.
swallow
walk, slower.
bonjour, ça va et toi?
memorize
mesmerized
click click
rattle rattle rattle
sigh
unload.
saunter and release.

your roots stretch deeper
than my branches ever will
but we share a trunk

Blood shed
but it wasn't blood
it was something
saltier.

Right place
Wrong time
needed space
      not mine.

couldn't talk
too scared
didn't knock
         I cared.

your eyes
blue, clear
in the skies
     I'm here.

my fault
but i
shed salt
wonder why.

Can't say
everything
please stay
let's sing.

You're more than I
will ever be
I'm two parts you
and one part me.

time is strange
things that will be were
and things that were will be.

and it's all now
it all was
it all will never be

all of it will
all of it did

and we're in the now
but that's relative
because we were in the now
before
and if that was the now then
where are we
                                                              ­ now?

good days
are becoming
            few
    and
               far
                              between.

And it should be the other way around.

1
      I would go to the edges of the universe
      to see your face light up like that again
      you wouldn't even walk a block
      to say hello.

1
      I would do anything for a machine that could bend time
      and your thoughts and direct it all back to that time
      you  smiled
      and thanked me.

2
      You do everything right
      but it's all wrong
      it's not real.
      I can't touch it.
      You can't feel it.

3
      We can talk and talk and talk and talk
      I know you like the back of my hand
      and yours.
      I do.
      You seem to have forgotten.

4
      You're not gone
      but you're not here
      I thought you were.  

1
      It's been years
      don't you remember?

" I like coffee. "
I say this all too often when the truth is
I like the way it makes me feel.
I like the sugar I add.
I like the cream and the way it swirls.
I like that it is more sophisticated that hot chocolate.
I like the way it warms my hands.
          all these things go away, though.
I do not like the way it makes me crabby after an hour
I do not like the way it tastes without the extra sugar
I do not like the still blackness when there is no creme to lighten it
I do not like how it doesn't remind me of childhood
I do not like how cold my hands feel when you--
when it is taken away.

Longing
for the days when I didn't know what sad meant
when serious was an idea used only to describe a teacher who didn't joke around.
when I was going to write the next great novel, the next hit musical
when friends were in high supply and it didn't matter that my hair was never brushed
when I played an instrument taller than I because I could
when I cried when I missed the second day of school
when the grass was my favorite place to sit
and moving our legs was more important than shaving them
when i didn't have to watch my words because everything was perfect and what could i say wrong
when the only pain i felt was a skinned knee
and the only loss was of a tooth.
simple is better.
i wish we could all understand.

We're dropping like flies out here and it's only been a few weeks
but already I'm over my head and that's where my heels should be
I'm not an expert in things I've never done and everyone says things
that make sense but that's where it stops. Nothing makes sense except for words.
And by words I mean thoughts because goodness knows the sentences  in my analytical
essays have horrible syntax and my calculator seems to be having problems with that too.
I get through everyday because of the people but the people also make it worse.
Everything is a dance and one wrong step can send everything spinning wildly out of
my control and into the hands of whatever powers compel people to label themselves and others.
Not those labels. the good kind. but the ones that tie us down so tight that if that rope is frayed
everyone knows that something is amiss. And I'm still figuring out if it's possible
to have too much empathy. Because putting people in front of me is the right thing to do
but I'm getting nothing in return and I thought putting people in front of me would
give me a shield when all it really did is let them get a head starts and I'm not selfish.
But I need to put myself first and if that means fraying the labels then so be it but frayed rope
is still made of the same material and though it points out in every direction it is still there.
I hope you know that.
And by you I mean me.
We're dropping like flies out here, all for different reasons. All for the same one.
I'm going to get through the days and I'll try not to keep track of the minutes.
Because flies have a lifespan of three days, and I've lasted years, so what use are minutes
anyway.

I really do love everyone
really,
everyone. I hope you all know that.
Because love is not in limited supply and that is one of the greatest things about life.
We can love whomever we please whenever we please
Because our hearts may be the size of our fists
but they're bigger on the inside.
Infinitely.
And they pump blood through
and pump love out
So if we all have this well inside of us
why not use it.
I love all of you.
Why shouldn't I?

I'm not a selfish person, but
For too long now
I've been smiling for you.
But I've been smiling without showing teeth.
Because my lips are sealed shut not by a secret but by a promise
to always be there.
And I've forgotten that I need to be there
for myself.
For too long now I've been smiling, lips shut, for you.
I like my teeth now, though
and I think it's time
to show them.
I need to smile with you.
And I need to smile for me.
From now on
I won't smile in pity
or to make you think that nothing is wrong
when I show my teeth
the only person I will be showing them to
is myself.