antediluvian days
then you flooded me with rage
The garden close
But guarded by a sword

You carved out canyons
In less that 40 days
And left the raven
With nowhere to land

Why didn’t you just burry my bones
instead of giving me hope
On this ****-filled boat
Only to leave me emerging
To an entirely new universe
Alone

And it turns out
Everyone’s heart
is stuck in a cage

Polite pollution
architect of fantasy.
No foundation but dug deep
Poured in
Soak and steep
flee.

B.P.
Pay me your reparations,
So I can get myself clean.
The oil clings
In iridescent rings
On everything.

And I just want my music,
And my couch,
And my favorite things
Without the sting.

And there is no now.
No there is no then.
It is all out of reach,
out of touch,
out of when.

I’m accustomed to giving all of me
And leaving none for myself.

When I offer you this last slice,
Know it is an offer
I hope you politely refuse
And suggest we share.

Missing you is like a house
With Christmas lights
Strung about
In March.

I want my toes
to be naked and unashamed—
Covered in sand, and grass,
and salt water.
Feral, like my soul.
Basking in the sun, splayed—
The rays my fodder.