I pine away
for the sun of a distant sky
a star I barely know
yet the drums beats wildly

eyes sees a lush forest
when there is barely any saplings
a land of withering flowers

forget-me-not,
a bitter smile on a tired face
who nursed a little heart back
from a broken heart

yet the little heart still
seized a glimmer of chance, humming
unable to stop hoping and wanting
even when the minds balked and balked
for it knows to pine for the sun is to fall

there is a reason
why human does not have wings

yet the little heart keeps trying to fly,
foolish and desperate in its loneliness
pumping it self until it burst
gone was the mind, but hope scorches

I pine away and
I perished

her breath colors the winter air gray
not the ugly kind of gray that winter snow ages into
and not the kind that's pretty either.
it's the kind of gray that's too fragile for time to sustain
it's the kind of fragile too light for scales to hold
it's the kind of light that wants to be lighter, that wants to be weightless
it's the kind of weightless that only knows bony arms and hollow cheeks
and it's the kind of bony, the kind of hollow, that turns ribs into cages
and cages into prisons for hearts that want to be—
not ugly, not pretty, not fragile, not light, not lighter, not weightless,
and not even bony or hollow—
but just
*be.

This is our first date
I didn't know where to take you
So I took you to see my grandma
She was always the life of the party
Funny how life works sometimes

I have been planting flowers around her grave
Because the gravediggers don't quite understand how much she was worth

The man that went to war and came back without his legs can't come see her because their only child is a good for nothing

Yes I'm talking about my father
He tried his best but something in him just didn't click
The only thing he could think of money and how wet he could get his ****

If this isn't coming right
Let me try again
Your hair reminds me of the flowing of our bodies when we are intertwined
Skeleton bones will be undug to walk amongst us again
Your smile reminds me of hers and oh god do I feel so warm

Being up on this hill with you
Fingers laced in one another
Your blue eyes beaming at how beautiful this meadow is
I hope that I can lay here with you

.

Where will the circus fall,
leaving giraffes homeless,
as pitched tents get pitched
and sideshow freaks
become the norm,
guessing someone’s weight
who doesn’t care

When the sun sets
tablecloth desires
on a silverware runway
with dishes made of gold
and wine glasses half full
are spilled in sad regrets

Will I walk alone
on a cobblestone road,
counting windows without shades
laced with flat screen televisions
tuned to the wrong channel,
reruns in Technicolor

Broadcasting seeded visions
in open fields of tall grass
when Eric Burdon sang
and cherry trees once stood
producing the fruit
of a past I no longer
want to see

Where will the circus fall,
where will I fall

The taller you are,
The longer it takes to sink
In this quagmire.
Reach down,
Extend me your hand,
So I can throw you a rope
From solid ground.

A honeybee hovers
Over my lawn,
Scouting nectar
Like a drone.
He hums a song
I love to hear:
Honey, he hums,
I'm coming home.

We lived
In our Goodwill bathing suits
During our arduous summer isolation
From school and friends.
They were shiny, silk-like.
The scrotums were always
A size too big,
And so, sagged,
Exposing us like water snakes
Raising heads from darkness.
We sat in the back seat of the Rambler
Like three monkeys,
Towels wrapped sarong-like.
The heated air rose from the hood
As visible reminders.
This was Mammy's idea,
Hoping he would feel obliged
After many hours of hoeing and weeding.
Just an hour at the Beach.
I longed for the sound of slowly crushed stone
Beneath the tires as we backed out.
He emerged from the house,
Walked to the garage,
Never glancing our way,
A half hour later we got out.
But I saw, I heard, and now I speak.
Some fathers are never Dads.