The art of the poet is showing.
Red hearts do not show a lot.
We can never improve without knowing
Which words work well and which do not.

So next time when words touch you,
Truly let the poet know.
If we 'like' and heedlessly rush through
Good poets will never grow.

There was a
girl, girl
dyed her
hair, hair
got
red, red
got every-
where.

Her hair
bled, bled
down the
drain, drain
clogged
up, up
the red came
again.

She tried to
keep, keep
her passion
tame, tame
the
beast, beast,
who always
stained.

But after many
nights, nights
spent al-
one, one
drove her
out, out
of her
home.

She followed
him, him
and his white
shirt, shirt
got red
quick, quick
-ly he was
hurt.

She tried to
flee, flee
so he could
live, live
a happy
life, life
without
strife.

but,

The man
smiled, smiled
a pinkish
grin, grin
-ning because his
hair, hair
was her's
twin, twin
hair was
blue, blue
like the
sea, see
his hair runs
too,
and
two
plus one makes a purple
family.

This poem is thumping like a boulder
at the bottom of a river
And last year’*****
is fighting static on the radio

We sat against the waves
all day yesterday
I still feel the rocking
That anti-movement

The best part of a meal is right when the food arrives
I’d rather stay hungry than be satisfied
to stop wanting
to stop chasing

I sleep on the ground
to be farther away from you

the whole time we were stock images
choreographed feelings
unrealistic props
and a well timed photographer

Now we’re stopping in yesterday’s parking lot
and today’***** has turned jarring.
They’ll be running our circles
long after we die.

I made a dozen
peanut butter and jelly sandwiches
before my mother came home
and took the knife out of my hand

I’m running to you
like you’re a pint of Ben & Jerry's
and I'm lactose intolerant

It stays in my mind
like choking on medicine

It’s like that pregnant silence
when the waiter asks
“together or separate?”

It’s like driving up a mountain
or criticizing the lack of representation in a Hallmark movie
alone from my couch.

There’s nothing poetic about stalking you on twitter.
but it’s part of the story so here’s a stanza about it anyway.

[Pause for effect]

I hope next time we meet
you’ll ask me how I am
I’ll tell you I am super
and both of us will believe it
again

I hope one of us will smile and say
“0ne day”
and the other will notice the typo.

Every self defeating metaphor anyone has ever birthed
A mug of orange juice in a giant’s hand
Three tablespoons of soil that you will misidentify as dirt
A motif specific to the reader
The sound of a tree falling alone in a forest
A manual titled Insects in the Garden of Today: Pests & Benefactors
Three redwood seeds in a row without pause

I fell in love at a McDonald’s. I expected it to happen in an overpriced cafe or a fancy Italian restaurant, but it happened at a McDonald’s and it was love all the same.

We were on our way back from the beach. We went whale watching but the ocean could have been empty for all the fish we saw. We paid good money for a caricature of the two of us. The graphite image of a happy couple with our faces sat in the back seat of your car. It would be framed and put up. We went into the sea as deeply as we dared and laughed and screamed as the waves came and came and came.

We were driving home with bits of mountains and boulders stuck between our sandaled toes and that’s when you pulled into a McDonald’s.

You ordered a sandwich, 100% real beef, never frozen, and asked me what I wanted. I said I would have the same. 100% real beef. Never frozen. I hate spending time and money on that which can only be consumed. We sat down with our food underneath the fluorescent lights next to a Happy Meal kiosk and I decided that I was in love with you and it was love all the same.

Loving you was like parking between the lines in an empty lot at 3:00 in the morning.

Long, long run
Deep green woods
Thunder claps
Darkness falls
I am
alone