the wind picks up the
leaves and they dance in little
spirals and when it slows they
fall like the end of a
puppet show

color me the hue of your cigarette ash;

slam broken beer bottles in to my palm

and wipe the blood on an old t-shirt. 

paint me pretty with ***** red lipstick
(stolen from my mother)

and stuff me in to china doll shells. 

you say “this change will be good for you”

i say “this is too fun to stop”

my father says “oh good god, what have you done?”

but darling, let’s not listen to anyone else,

and continue tattooing memories on our skin.”

~



And so it goes…
another sun, another day

Lost to the horizon’s constant appetite
for all that this sky above may hold
Thin and straight, never-ending, swallowing the beauty
that waits for us as we look up
only to follow the minutes
ticking away as fast as the journey

I have come to determine
one night sitting on the front porch
counting fireflies and missing you,
(tearing up for my impending daily loss)
that this place, this narrow slice at the end of this earth
must surely consist of multi-colored liquid

For the splash made by the sun
is more vibrant than anything I have ever witnessed
Staining the western heavens
with pastel swashes of glowing patterns
until the wash fills with shade and is
hidden by a new moon glow

and so it goes
another moon, another night…without you