When I look over
my shoulder
all I see is a star
shining through
a dark hole
and hear a strange sound
like wind crying out
through the trees
or the creaking
of limbs
a dark shape
passing over the moon
like an omen
of a mad woman
I once knew
a ghost ship
spreading her legs
like a cross
arms reaching out
her name lost
to my memory
something that sounds
much like my doom.

That December,
I was a mess.
A pile of broken bones
And discarded hopes.
Skin clammy and lips cracked,
Devoid of anything.
You ignored it,
All of it.
Now, it’s April.
Two years later
And I’m still a mess.
I’m still a pile of broken bones
And discarded hopes.
My skin is still clammy
And my lips are still cracked.
I’ve still devoid of everything.
But mostly?
I’m devoid of you.

There's something about
opening a bottle of colour -
knowing
that any way it spills
won't spell A-R-T at your hands.
let's call it the audacity of trying,
and
move on.

Same thing for a lump of clay -
lying in front of you,
waiting for creative violence,
but you know that your thoughts
don't have fingers,
your ideas don't have arms.
let's call it the pointlessness of wishing
and
move on.

Don't look at the camera -
the eager buttons waiting,
glinting in the hope of your touch
a lens waiting to be turned -
knowing that your eye can never
translate your sight into art,
your vision will never equal
an image.
let's call it the imperfection of waiting,
and
move on.

My last hope is a pen.
my fingers rush over it,
finding solace in known grooves
where my fingers have settled
time and again.
i call it the comfort of a story.

and this time,
*i stay

I told them to disguise it.

Hide hope in despair,
Wealth in poverty
And beauty in hidiousness.

I told them to stash it away.

Sneak love into a hateful heart,
Oppotunity into the pocket of failure
And tuck intelligence under a fools tounge.

Cover it up
So those who are willing
To lose it all,
Have it all.

My children,
Take the chances that come from losing,
Gnaw on the bones of poverty,
crack them open
And **** on the marrow of a full heart.

Go confidently into the world,
Knowing the value of an ugly old coat.
The warmth and memories it carries
Wrap yourselves up in dreams past,
And realize the brightness of your future.

I told them to disguise it,
Now go find it.

I call her the rainmaker
Meadow in my heart and a lake abundant
Out in the horizon the rain clouds are
But here in my heart the drops do dance

I call her sunflower
The path unworn is wary of company
A million a second a billion butterflies an hour
For there she were and lucky I be
I call her the rainmaker