I should publish a book, just so people can buy it and never read a single word
They can put it on their living room tables, and point it out when company comes over
"I read poetry, go open that book if you don't believe me" they'll say, and amazingly, when the book is opened, someone will know that their host is lying
Because if a person reads poetry, they would never buy my book

Walk away, from shadow to light,
Past the litter of old lives.
Walk, along water channels,
Over stones already water smoothed,
Satisfying in their solidity,
Soothing to the soles,
Feet-pleasing.

Walk away, from anger to air.
Past engines that fuel their own end.
Walk along ridges, rivulets,
Over mounts, chasms, peaks, troughs,
Choosing not to fall,
Listening to silence,
Far laughter.

Walk away,  just walk away,
Let go of fears repressed, petrified.
Start hard, mean it step...
Out over emotion wasted, tired lies.
Start another way
Each time leaving,
Come back new.

The snow is gone
The sun’s come out
The grass is green
The flowers sprout

The birds all sing
The air turns fresh
The wraps come off
We show some flesh

So crack a smile
Or scream and shout
That’s what spring
Is all about
BOEMS BY JA 265

I like my poems medium rare
I like my clothes to look like couches
I like my thoughts to be deep, even though they make me scream.
I like my music meaningful
I like my dancing naked
I like my people whether they hate me or love me.
I like my romance movies
I like my speeches to move me
I like my infomercials even though I don't buy anything.
I like my flowers petted
I like my animals kissed
I like my coffee strong even though my thoughts make me crazy.
I like my boys sappy
I like my girls happy
I like myself, because I am the things I like.

Since I was very young, I had a colorful mind.
Shapes, numbers, letters, sounds, memories
have colors
and personalities.
Triangle, 4, 7, and C are all light green,
9 is an evil wizard who turns numbers into 1 less that they want to be, while 10 is the good wizard who will make any little number a teen.
Yada yada.
My mom would say,
"Don't do it like that, just--just do the math!"
And I would say,
"Okay"
but the stories would replay in my head
still replay in my head.
"Mom, do you remember that wedding we went to?"
"Yes"
"That's orange now"
"Hmm?"
"It's been a while, so the memory turned orange"
"Ahhh, that's nice honey".
I grew up trying to figure out what I was
an alien?
an angel?
a monster?
just weird?
I now know that I have
S-Y-N-E-S-T-H-E-S-I-A
that's
black yellow yellow orange black brown red orange black white red
or
0 - - 3 0  10 8 3 0 1 8

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.