he dived into a pool of syrupy, blackness;
dived into his past.
it smelled of ***** laundry,
sweat, and goodbyes.
he choked on the thick memories;

raucous music rippled through
the molasses that weighed him down.
he realized his mistake for dwelling
and kicked his feet feverishly,
back and forth
back and forth.
his lips broke the surface.
sunlight met him with a kiss.
the bad days were long gone.

time isn't the enemy.
time isn’t an enemy.
time is a friend that should be
wholeheartedly embraced.
it makes moments-
the ones you never want to end-
finite.
it makes them worth remembering
specifically because
they do not last.

time will continue even if you do not.
it’s harsh ways keep people
from feeling scars as
fresh bullet wounds. instead,
it fades.
the pain fades.
it’s a pinch, instead of a bullet that
tears your ribcage into splinters.
it’s survivable pain.
the past is the past
and the present isn't so unbearable.
the past is the past
and the future is bright.

Someone’s world jumped
onto a cold set of tracks
at Jamaica station
early last week.

Someone’s world jumped
into the universe next door,
leaving us all for
being too human.

At the time,
I was trapped at Penn Station.
A pain spread
about my stomach
like a pen pressed against
a sheet of looseleaf.

MTA officials made announcements,
calling it a mechanical malfunction.

9 to 5 businessmen in
deep black suits with bluetooth headsets
groaned and bargained
for passage home,
ready to ride
through a stranger's graveyard.

Little kids ran through shops,
fingers sticky with frozen yogurt
and popcorn- surprise treats
used as pacifiers.

I sat in a well known coffee shop
pondering life and death.

The word suicide didn’t hurt
like it used to, but I felt
connected to this stranger.

I thought about
that person’s lover,
that person’s sister,
that person’s mother,
that person’s friend.

I thought about how
all of their galaxies stirred and switched gears.
A planet of theirs- tremendous or trifling in their own imagination-
collapsed and changed the course of everything.
I wondered if their galaxy halted and
each star and planet mourned or
if their galaxy smoothed over the craters
and dodged all the meteors and
didn’t even blink.

My galaxy shifted and
clouds laid thick.
Stars dimmed their lights in harmony.

A few years ago
or even a few months ago,
I would’ve cried
and thought
about following this
stranger to train station heaven.

But now,
I thought about
my sister’s galaxy,
my mother’s galaxy,
my best friend’s galaxy.

Now,
I felt sadness
but I also felt love.

I wonder, when John Hancock
signed the Declaration,
if he could feel time pulling apart
then back together,
taking the shape
of his America.

I wonder, when Lincoln
felt the cold bullet
enter the curls of his hair,
if he had enjoyed the play.

I wonder, when ****’s
burned ownerless toys
and 80-year marriage rings,
if they were shaken
by the screams of thousands.

I wonder, when the sailor
kissed that nurse
when the war had been won,
if he thought about bombs
or her soft lips.

anarchy
anarchy in my bones*
screaming flesh
red fire in my soul
the waves of anger
roll straight off my back
but the fear
it remains
soaked in blood it flows through my head