I want to write a poem
that brings the girl
with the stone eyes
to tears
that will melt away
her barrier of misery
like a butter mint
in the mouth

I want to write a poem
that gives the man with
permanent frown lines
and worn leather skin
a sparkle in his eye
and fulfillment in his breath

I want to write a poem
that makes the heartbeat
a little bit louder
or softer
or stronger
or momentarily
skip

I want to write a poem
that allures people into
staying up until 4 am
searching for others alike
that will give them
the same kind of clarity
in this very cloudy world

-kk

i would never admit this out loud
but he kind of makes me sad
the way i might feel bad for an ugly animal
how lowly a life you must've had
to wear that dreadful hat
"Make America Great Again"
short, silly little man!
why are you the way that you are
your face seems soft like a baby
but you ****** with my best friend's heart!
and she may forgive you
but i definitely won't

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.

some may think me a pessimist
even i begin to think so some days
but then there are things like lentil soup
tastes like mama's dinner bell laughs
and yesterdays that have lost their prowl
and it's also healthy?
a thing with no flaws
seems too good to be true
but it is true, it is.

i am a little soda bottle
but not an empty one
there's much more than air in my neck
i'm full of the most dazzling drink
you've never had.
thousands of tiny bubbles
buoyantly waiting to break the surface
it's just no one's taken the time
to open me yet.

-kk

i am surrounded by beauty
that should overwhelm my soul
by sleepy sunlight
and wispy air that carries dainty secrets
to the clouds
by a perfect children's book sky
and flowers in colors so fluid
i fear if touched
they would leave wet paint on my fingertips
the sounds of summer
are in reach of my breath
and yet
i am pale and cold
and i fear each coming day
like the plague.

(and the colors are slowly greying and hardening beneath my hands)

I’m hit with sounds and smells of you
Sitting behind a smoker on the transit
And I’m strangely nostalgic
I’ve grown to love it
Because on you it’s mixed with pine
Like you dozed off next to a fire pit

I realize you’re all around me
Because in these parts
short flannel clad men
with tall egos
are a dime a dozen

Though I know when I move away
I’ll look back with yearning
On those nights in your car
(they meant more to me than you know)
listening to Tame Impala and waiting for the bridge
bass cranked high like the heat
effervescent windows frosted
from our craft brewed breaths
singing and saturated with spirit(s)

Was this home or all I came to know?

I can’t deny that summer will never again
be as heavy with happiness
as when the sky has stopped her crying
long enough to paint in pastels
canopied air crisp enough to bite
I guess that’s what happens
when you spend 2/3 of the year in grey

it’s not for me

is the anticipation always better?

as i look out my window
at the glossy mirrored skyscrapers
painted with splendid light
i realize
that i haven't thought about
that old house or town all day.
people from there have passed through my thoughts
but i haven't pictured myself back there at all.
and now as i am looking back up at the towers
i feel like they are standing there for me:
protective and beautiful.
now,
when i think about where i used to live
i don't yet feel passive,
but i no longer feel desire.

most people when asked
what they are most drawn to in a person
respond wholeheartedly, "eyes"
and true
eyes are crystals glinting with beauty and emotion
and are often referred to as "windows into the soul"
but i am curiously drawn to the allure of a mouth
i love lips and dimples and teeth
moving together to form a dazzling smirk.
i often find my gaze lingering on your mouth
your smile stuns me
and i cannot help but to be mesmerized
by its irresistible appeal
luring and tempting me
to give you my full attention.

-kk

I plan out my words to him like a poem
hoping he'll notice they were plucked just for him
like my eyebrows
and ***** hair
please adore my presentation
and I'll lay silent and bare

it's odd how we decide that we need another
person
to fuse together
by the lips
by the body
there is no other purpose
than to feel excitement
We know nothing, minds and bodies completely foreign
except to the idea of shared beauty
to the possibility of fitting together
like the threads of the duvet I am lying under
maybe someday you will sleep next to me
but for now I will think of you across the street

(I) have a strong desire and longing for something
I feel empty and hollow
I (do) a thorough examination of my physical state
but I am (not) hungry or thirsty and I slept well the night before
still, I am craving something vital to my survival
I can (feel) a gnawing in my gut
Suddenly, as I close my eyes in a momentary whim
I see a (wo)nderful face shining
peering into me with bright eyes and skin
whispering my name with guita(r) strummed syllables
and I know what it is  I am craving:
I want someone who will call me at 11:00 PM
and talk with me for hours
our voices passing (th)rough a sacred space
untouched and unseen
by an(y)one except us
I want those eyes...

tonight i saw the movie paper towns
excellent message but poorly executed
but from it i reaped two important insights:
1. that my life has been paper for a long time
2. something much worse than being paper
is treating others like paper: disposable, recyclable

writing poetry can be frightening
i'm vulnerable
unguarded
wide open
exposed
my bare skin is hanging on the clothes line
sometimes
letting another read my poems
is like letting my glass jar drop
and hit the floor
my reflection glinting
in every scattered shard

-kk

i am not a person of many things
i have only a small family
one brother
i spend my days
using the same few things
over and over
i haven't many followers on social media
or in real life
my grades are fine
though i have not as many points as you

but i have sung thousands of lines, verses
i have birthed hundreds of poems and stories
some not written down
but they have still existed in my mind
and in that space between
spoken and unspoken
the pen
drips gold into my soul
whether real or metaphorical


i am wealthy in my ways

have you noticed how i love small things
that is why i am a poet
i savor the details
they give me life and spark my feelings

sitting in the car, radio on
a poet died today
his name was Phillip Levine
87 years old
a good substantial lifetime
"Found Poetry On Detroit's Assembly Lines"
he wrote about assembly line workers all his life
how boring one may think
but for me something clicked
poets are just lovers, synonymous
finding beauty in the dust and streetlamp light
taking it in and falling deeply for years
there are those with many love affairs
but Phillip was a loyal partner
Detroit assembly lines his lifelong fiancee
making him raw, bringing him meaning
to him, the world
and to share it was all that mattered.

here in this perfect paradise of endless and colorless
I fertilize the white soil with my devastation and solitude
and plant a garden
tall stalked flowers and bushes of ripe berries
pop up between the parallel lines

words on every corner
reach out with LED lights and capital letters
OVERSIZE LOAD and RECYCLED FASHION
demand an appetite for peripheral attention
bashful graffiti is tentative to show his smirk
unsure if he is welcome in this delicate urban zoo
where ponytailed dogs and homeless hands
share the same sallow sidewalk bricks

look up!
see the royal sorbet sky
he raises his wispy brows
as a crane lowers its dragon neck
into the safety of its concrete den
how dare such a beast encroach  
on the heavenly domain of clouds

all day a man sits in contradiction
crisp collar and stolen office chair
handing out desperate news for dollar bills
as tattered as his tiny hands

I wonder if the cigarette ****
feels worthless, now alone
dreaming to once again be puffed
being flattened by rubber soles

years ago this was home land
rich, taut and quietly loved
the earth soaked in moon's pearl balm
where his eyelashes touched the ground

Everybody knows the city always listens
through the scattered trees left here to stand
when our footsteps seem like only feathers
lost in the echoes of civilization

street now veiled by velvet
a cradle for eyes to close
the lamplight is my guiding star
i see illuminated faces
in hazy windows
and the flash and beam
of passing car

its better
if i'm not completely
outwardly content
because
when my room is clean
my grades are good
i've finished applying to colleges
and i'm getting along
with everyone
then there is nothing left
that upsets me enough
but doesn't scare me badly

so

my mind gets left with too much time
on his meddling hands
and he starts creeping
around the backyard
and digging
up past tortures
to taunt me with

i'd like to say that poetry could be my profession
but that would be like saying
that spewing my emotions and dark thoughts
across the shelves of a bookstore
is a profession.
i could never make someone clean that up.

(and still face them again)

Today I was thinking about God
and how it must feel
to hold the universe in your hands.
I wonder if the earth to him
is like a small piece of clay
taken between his index finger and thumb
and rolled into a tiny ball
handled with such a delicate touch
as to give each surface
the same amount of pressure
sculpting mountains, shaping oceans
creating infinities
with momentary movements.

Do his fingers slip on occasion?
unbalancing the careful equilibrium?
I've been told that God makes no mistakes
but nothing seems to make sense to us
down below
trying to make a home
on this ever-spinning pottery

I wonder, is his other hand preoccupied as well?
maybe the earth we live on is just one of many art projects
or is our little ball the only one he has invested in?

sometimes I wonder if he knows how it feels to be lost
blindly stumbling through the blizzard
snow flying at our faces and getting caught in our noses and eyes
feeling around for something to hold onto in darkness
trying to be good and do well in a place that is confusing, unscripted
everything we know taught by sheep who call themselves shepherds
when in truth
they are just as lost as the rest of the flock.

-kk

you are cute no matter what you are
(even angry)
I like it when I can see your emotions
in the open air
and feel the energy
waves of you

as we climbed into the canopies
bright green swallowed me
through sweet soil
and dew cloaked womb
eyes mist wet
I emerged
stinging new
fingers unfurling
grasping for a nurse log
touching
furrowed bark
and smooth baby caps
soaking shades
glistening with epiphyte moss
sipping centuries
to hold me
in this crisp breath

i'm walking home alone
the tide is high
i can smell the salty marsh
the light is enveloping but soft
a watercolor painting
descends upon me
golden hues of orange and pink
are hanging above

Today someone told me
i wouldn't get very far
because i love writing
not science
because i love literature
not mathematics
because i love using my mind to create
not replicate
i'm sorry
but these are the only things
pushing me to pull the covers
off my body every morning
so they will to have to be enough
i'm sorry for your closed mindedness
i'm sorry for your blindness
i hope that this disability of yours
has not stopped your dreams
and it sure as hell won't stop mine

With an aching in my heart
I miss Paris
I fell in love with the freedom
of a new city without boundaries
and the almost overwhelming beauty
flavors that melted my previous palette
sights so drenched in detail
looking down a single street
was the same as taking in an entire novel
new sounds that excited my nerves
and gave me a never ending buzz
I am forever attached to the feelings I felt
but sadly the city of love cannot love me back
I am simply an alien who wandered
onto her luscious soils with my foreign feet
and she only had a moment's chance
to recognize my presence
which most likely went unnoticed
but still I'll love her forever
and maybe someday I'll stay long enough
for her to throw her arms around me

-kk

i cried until my pillow
was saturated with salt
though no amount of tears,
could fill the emptiness
in my chest.

-kk

Onetime, I hit rock bottom
but it wasn't really rocky at all
it was actually pretty soft
it felt like my bed
in the middle of a messy room
that went unnoticed
because there was nothing
to provoke me to care
there was no feeling
soft was just a sensation, no emotion involved
I could've been laying on a rock
but it would've just given my nerves
a different pattern of stimulation
it would've just been another irrelevant reality
separate from me.
The phrase was coined "rock bottom" to scare people away
because feeling nothing is worse than feeling a rock
bludgeon your body
because when you feel nothing there is no reason
to ever come back to the surface
and live.

she is a delicate rose
at the dawn of winter,
petals slowly withering
around the edges

-kk

she is a delicate rose
at the dawn of winter
withering grey edges
hem her vibrant petals
-kk

I find myself feeling lost
in the same place as I've always been
but not knowing where I am.
I feel like I've just awoken today
from a deep slumber
that lasted several years
all of the people, places I've known
have completely changed
some are not here anymore.
All the things I thought I knew
are simply fabrications, memories
the person I once was seems like
she doesn't even exist.
I am angry, sad, depressed
filled with thoughts of confusion
the world is so much harsher
and more rotten than I ever understood.
I have memories of being a child
full of life, excited, curious
gravitating towards love
going after what I want
but slowly over time
the energy that I held
has been drained from my soul
a little drop everyday
the more I age,
the more things complicate,
the more it hurts
my past rosy life
is now blurred from view.

-kk

i get obsessed with things
until they make me sick
i love too hard
worry too well

i do this with everything
music, people, ideas, school

you need to
calm down
let go
honey

don't take hold of things
and let them in
with such a serious grip

you're ok
nothing is ever as bad as it seems
just let the anxiety fade
forget the sour aftertaste
and realize there's good
in everything

(you can love and want things to pieces
without falling to them yourself)

I had so many chances
to give us a chance
I passed you in the hallways so many times
but I just shuffled by casually
and pretended you were just another boy
but you most certainly were not
oh no, not to me.
We conversed with our eyes
and they told me enough to know
that you wanted me too
I knew, oh I knew
but on that last day
I made a most detrimental mistake
and instead I decided that my nerves
were worth more than my heart.

-kk

i usually make jokes at myself
because to some people
celibacy is funny
and what better way to cover up insecurity
yes i could have *** i guess
but i'm stuck in a comfortable place
where i've put it just out of reach
and i haven't allowed my muscles to stretch
yes i could have *** i guess
girls and boys alike have expressed interest
but whenever i get close
i plan a carefully elusive escape
a "coincidental" blockade
i may have put it there myself
but forgive me for being picky
not everyone has the skill of hurling themselves
please, don't call me a tease
i just have to sniff around before i know what i want
and usually, i've discovered
i don't

(I) do not stay up late
because I (am) not tired.
I like sleeping,
but I cannot stop (thinking)
(about) how little time there is left
and I know (you) are almost
out of my reach.

-kk

Today I found myself in a bookstore
and somehow of course
I ended up in the poetry section
and then suddenly 16 dollars were gone
from my bank account
and were sat in my hand
in the form of a book of poetry
by Billy Collins

I've spent so many hours writing with no direction
that I forgot how much I delight in reading poetry
until I dove into the wave again
headfirst without dipping my toe in
and that wonderful feeling returned
that often comes with tasting a delicious work of art
and makes you want to give a slice of word-filled cake
to everyone who comes your way

My father happened to be the first
his gentle eyes listened as they always do
and he commented on the smile
that had decided to take up residence on my face while I read
the heavy kind, that weighs down and warms
leaving lines in all the right places
always making the wearer much prettier, no matter what

It is in moments like these,
that I am quite sure
I will never need resort
to alcohol
nor any other form of drug
to keep me willingly dancing through life

-kk

Last night I dreamt of him kissing my eyelids and eyes
catching my tears with his kisses before they could fall.
Why would he do such a gentle thing?
My wondering echoed the depths of my sleep
and through the night he whispered back to me
I want to taste every part of you
even the tears that you cry.
My only wish is to take away your fears and shames
and swallow them myself.

I awoke asking the cold morning
if such a selfless thing could exist beyond dreams?

have you ever felt so upset?
but you don't know why?
have you ever felt a twisting in your gut?
quiet for a time
then someone tries to speak to you
and you burst into sudden flames
that make you realize
you were keeping in so much pain?
reasons unknown
ammunition just kept on loading
until there was no more room in the barrel
sometimes i worry
that i'm a ticking time bomb
but the tick is so soft
that sometimes it soothes me to sleep
i fear i have too much anger coiled
too many feelings strung between my bones
i worry for the safety of others
i think that is why i feel so alone.

-kk

my chest aches
but i know my struggle
is not unique or important
it is one of self pity
for too long i have made myself sick
why do i never learn
the more i live the more i trip over my feet

my thoughts are heavy, booming like thunder
but when i speak my words fall out like cake crumbs
airy, pointless, forgetful
do they see me as dumb and powerless like i feel?

everything i do is an effort to distract
from what i cannot say out loud
i live in a honey world
surrounded by sappy sweetness
but i cannot breathe or move through it
to connect with those around me

as I open my eyes my body hums
realizing where I am
rare autumn sun drizzles through the window
the warmth of you is sweet like maple syrup
and I marinate in the joy connecting our limbs

with you I feel safer than I've ever felt
where you end and I start
can't say
I savor these mornings like sunlight in November
as we melt together in bed

.

my feet are reluctant
and bare
the snow curdles under my toes
i cannot feel them anymore
i don't know why i am walking
in this direction
towards the cemetery
where your body lies
but resisting is hopeless

sometimes i wish you were ashes
because all i can do is imagine
what is happening underground
alone
your vanilla skin purpling and grey
your plum lips picked too soon
now shriveled lines
ice covering your eyes
that used to reflect your thoughts
and that
there is no one to cradle you through the winter

other things i will not say out loud

but no matter what we try to believe
you are not on this earth anymore
so why bother pretending
it only fills me with grief

Living in a woman's body can be quite unfair,
one reason that quite out stands the rest being
that from the second our letters read "X and X"
we are programmed to become attracted to a ***
which from the beginning of human interaction
has disrespected and shamed us with such a hatred
that could never be sufficiently described.
But they need us and want us just the same!
Oh please,
help me to understand.
Are we not sacred creatures!
I wonder who told the boys otherwise
I do wonder who started the lie.

-kk

my feet are tired
but they will never feel as heavy
as the ones that took these stairs to bed
every night
having labored
until the smothering sun had seeped into their very beings
the floorboards have grown wise
among the unceasing symphony of footsteps
each layer of rust and grime
conceals an unspoken history
but this hotel was one of few
that took note and listened
with every step I do my best
to glide into the past
echoes of daily conversation
questions and longing
"Did you hear about..."
"The most hilarious thing happened to me today..."
"I miss the way she..."
I see the walls transforming around me
the paper lanterns hanging
dazzling gold detail restored
brilliant red puffed with warm radiance
I see the light spreading across the ceiling
like hundreds of arms held out
to comfort the souls making a home
in this foreign unaccepting land
the wafting smell of familiar cooking
brings about throngs of memory
i will never really know the feeling
but as I look out the window
through the lazy haze of apricot sunlight
I can taste the uncertainty and fear
but it is overwhelmed by dreams

it's silly how were all the same
fragile friends with fake-ids
our eyes welling beer tears
each day
a new breakdown
desperate to catch a breath of each moment
while the world shoves our futures
down our throats

my body is like an orange
outside I am bright, spontaneous
but peel back my skin
oh, feel it old and withered for its young age
even though I was only just picked off the tree
and you will find the strings of pale yellow
slowly breaking apart
confused, a nostalgic color
inside I feel boring and I am sad
it only takes a peeled layer
a whiff of muggy air
and I am drifting out of my sight
in tears
leave me here to rot

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

in the midst of my solitude
i see the moon
his face plump and hopeful
But look closer and notice
how his eyes point downward
and his mouth quivers
he is beautiful but melancholy

in the midst of my solitude
i see the moon
full of woe like me
he knows his fate
that with every orbit
from this world in his sight
he is drifting away

in the midst of my solitude
i see the moon
his eyes say what i feel
sharing in my pain
he still glows every night
i am not alone

Goodbye my moon
have a safe slow trip
i know it is out of your control
i will always remember you
though my body may be gone

everything cannot stay.