The best places are hidden
like stones in central park
secret roof top not
accessible except
for the morning staff
overnight, the sheer weight
of moonlight
paralleling through a Brooklyn
window pours on
to a frozen floor of
patterned tiles
where touches are like
turning on a lamp
dimly at first. Flickers
a bit then
bright as Chicago (1871)

I haven’t started to pack anything yet
trying to find a way to bring
you with me first
only to discover
that airplanes can only carry so
much baggage
so set it down
plot it in the Himalayas
where it belongs
it’s not about letting go
it’s to make sure a part of you stays
when you do
they will always tape that yellow line
in front of you at museums
and at train stations
the difference is whether or not
You're brave

We spent so much time drawing on sidewalks
with chalk
leaving messages for old friends
threats for enemies
and instructions for our future selves
how many years did it take us to reach the end of the pavements
spilling cheese puffs all over the place
the clues were on your fingers
once in a generation there are kids who always speed when
they turn 16; reckless loose and free like an avalanche
towards the sea I made a bet with you that I could swim to the horizon
but I can’t swim
I’m a body full of empty threats
but I always kept my promises close to me
did it take long for you to forget
so many nights abroad with them
once in a lifetime for everyone
the world swallows the sea
so I didn’t need to know how to swim that night
there was you and you would always wear sundresses when you went out
and when you died they donated all your clothes to the children's hospital
sometimes when I go there I still see you running around outside
drawing on sidewalks

I want to be able to tell you something
Not sure what I want to say
All I know is that I want to say
Something to you
Something that won’t leave you
Something that leaves an impression
Something from the deepest part of me
Something that makes up for
All the other times I couldn’t
Something to make you stay

Black clothed kissing
in the subway
she smelled like 6 months of
soul searching
digging through herself
with **** and coffee
he grew a bit, not physically
but something inside him
wasn't there before
they held each other
the same way you held
a sinking ship
Carefully at first,
and then completely
as tight as possible

I want to be able to kiss you
And now feel like the sun
Is dying inside of me
Want to wake up to the sight
Of you and not remember
How long we have left
Want to hold you for as long
As possible
Until I can feel the thunderstorms
In-between us
The sheer weight of an anchor
On my stomach
When my heart drops another meter
Filled with stones that you’ve carved
Words like two years or six months
On to them
6 shots of ***** will make me throw
Up
I hope 10 shots will lighten the weight

I feel like trash being ready
to be picked by whoever has
the worst taste
finding out later
that they only needed the bag.
emptying my contents on to the grass
half broken and dismembered
pieces of glass left behind from the time
I broke my mirror
unfinished 40 ounces from winter break.
the first time I ever got drunk and threw up.
It felt good.
Half a dozen 8ths
I smoked for a whole month
after she left me and my parents
kept lecturing me about
how much I ****** at
being alive