sometimes
words fail me
sometimes
i can't even begin to explain
sometimes
i don't have any fancy words
from the uncharted pages of the dictionary
sometimes
i don't feel like looking in a thesaurus for the perfect
word to fill in the blank
sometimes
it doesn't come easily to me
usually
it doesn't come easily to me

-kk

I'm the mistress of emotion
I try to avoid his eye during the day
pretending I've never seen him before
but the truth is I'm at his every beck and call.
Just you wait and see,
I promise you he'll appear in the doorway
flashing his enticing smile
just when I'm trying to fall asleep.

I have a crush on love
but we've never met me before
I watch him from afar in the schoolyard
yet I've never made a move
I need to stop worrying and waiting
for him to introduce himself.

I'm the assistant of suppression
I help him with his careful work
I fold all of my fears and pains
and make them fit into tiny boxes
so they can be stored away on a basement shelf
and someday found again to open with surprise
forcing me to finally deal with everything inside.

-kk

Today I awaken on the first day of July
with sun rays in my eyes
and lighting in my veins.
I refuse the past tense because I am right now alive
fresh and full of potential energy.
It is a new month
in the thicket of summer
anything can happen
I am surely just a child
I could be anyone
I can do anything I want
there are no limits
except the mental barriers
I can decide to place before myself.
I am grateful for this moment
and blessed that it can continue into many more.

Lately
I can't fall asleep
because I can hear each heartbeat
pounding in my head
I want to touch
I want to be touched
I just want someone
to trace, place, hold
finger to lip, hand to face
playing with hair
caressing shoulders and neck
breathing in scent
charting each surface
finding a way to come close to another
as deeply and physically possible
using every sense the body has to offer
each one a method of communication
simpler than words

while i'm sitting here in the dark
with my feet propped up
and my body warm
i should be content
but i can't get this sensation to go away
it doesn't seem to have a name
that i can recall
my storage of words is limited
to 11th grade vocabulary
and what i've read in books
if i were to try and explain
i guess i would say that it feels like
there is a vertebra missing from my spine
i can still stand and walk around,
but when i do the world seems to tilt slightly
all of the bookshelves in my mind
have slid to the opposite wall
the cabinets have burst open
and things are falling out
clattering on the hardwood floor
i know i should have a smile on my face
but all i can think is:
why
why not
how

The boy asked, "How do you write a poem?"
and the teacher was perplexed 
How can I explain? I don't know!
She tried to respond in an eloquent fashion
"Pretend that your pen is a cup and pour into it your soul
but only let it out in tiny, undiluted drops.
The boy did not understand so he questioned her once more
She thought
"Make believe that the page is a baby's rosey cheek
and kiss it softly with only the most delicately chosen words."
Confusion continued to cloud the young boy
So she decided to give it one final try:
"You are a summer garden plot, a poem a flower bud
find an open space to plant a seed of thought
bury it in the soil naked and undeveloped
and give it your utmost care and contemplation
along with water and sunlight in preferential doses.
After a time a poem may begin to sprout
but it can often take longer than you expect
do not assume the poem to pop right up
and there are no guarantees
about what will result in the end
that seed may grow into an exotic rose
or an unforeseen dandelion
you never know how the sun will shift
or the how the wind will shape the land."

The boy thanked the teacher thinking he understood
and hurriedly outside he ran
straight to the wooden gardening shed
and grabbed his shovel, gloves and watering can.