I've got no space for pain from you.
There is no hole inside of me.
No emptiness. No loneliness.
I've only got space for love
Do you hear me?
You can't take my power from me.
And I won't take yours.
I refuse to feel that way.
Its been long enough...
To be healed.

And I dreamed I met you at an airport,
History stretching between us,
And you were teasing and coy,
Like you knew who I was,
But it was our first meeting.
Maybe we met like that in the next life, or the past.
Maybe this was always meant to be,
But in the dream I was so sure I would wake up next to you,

Dear J----,

How many suns died,
out in the black margins
& burning headrooms
since we last shared
any words of importance?
I look out tonight from the roof
towards the endless upper branch
& swear a few have blinked away.

You strolled in so casually
from my dream, as if from the wood
or park, and common strokes
moved in the air between us.
Your words fork across
all your grassy miles,
as you tell me about the fox-scream;
I can almost see the starlings
hash across miniature cubes of lawn.

I live in silver -
the cars that flicker right to left,
the metro's metallic hide,
the strange inflorescent cloud
that garottes the coinish moon.
I'll lend it you on afternoons
when the rain deposits itself
in quiet blue discs across the city.

Go now, and know
that I am always grateful
for another friend, especially
when they understand
how hard a heart heaves
across all the bent years.

Yours,
Evan

Have you ever loved something so much
That you would do any task
Give up any possession
To chase what no one else could see?

In your heart
Have you ever held something so precious
That you would teach a fish to fly
Just to keep it within your grasp?

In my life I accomplished everything I was told I couldn't
I put myself below no one, I refused to face any discrimination
Because with my art I could make the invisible seen to all
I could change emptiness into brilliance
And I could capture an ephemeral moment and make it immortal

I was told countless times to give up for I was destined to fail
But I'd rather have tried and failed
Than live my life regretting that I never did
I am no coward, my paintbrush is my sword
And my canvas is my battlefield

For my art I would turn nothingness into magic
Because with my art I could make magic tangible

You can still be good
at what you do
without liking
what you do

It’s more common than
you’d imagine

The words reflected his face
in the steamy bathroom mirror

He watched
until he felt cold in his
nakedness
and shivered

reached for the towel
wiped
got out of the bathroom
put on clothes
and returned to his writing
desk

The blank page was ugly

unlike the somewhat encouraging
words on the steamy mirror

He reached into the drawer
pulled out the pen
stuck it into his mouth
clicked it

Reached again into the drawer
pulled out the gun
pointed it at the blank page
fired

He wrote for the remainder of
the day and the next
night around the smokey hole

It was finally
beautiful