I want
thousands of
beautiful words
to tumble out of my
mouth
to take
your breath away
to show you
what it is
I'm feeling
but every time
my chest inflates
with the thought of you
I have no words
at all.

I want to
Throw seeds to the wind
And hope they land
S c a t t e r e d
Amongst your
Scars
I hope forests grow
Where there once
Was pain
And I hope the roots
Grow so thick
Writhing
living
Roots
I hope they grow so thick
That you'll never be touched again
And in under this thick canopy
I hope to hide
Save some safety

Looking for
God
Somewhere between
A love letter lost
In a landfill
And hitting
A hundred
Miles an hour
On the highway

I keep dreaming
of crushing
concrete columns
and
wondering
if I'll
ever
feel like
I'm not alone?

learning new lips
like lost lovers
often do

Last night
You visited my dreams
You wrapped
Your fingers
Around my heart
And told me
That you really did Love me

I don't
Think I've ever
Been so upset
To open
My eyes

Today I realized
that tomorrow you
could get hit by a bus

and you'd never know
that I love you

my arms feel heavy
like lead in my vein
from lust
loveless lasting
on my tongue
from far away
thoughts
I've tried to bury
beneath my bed
winding up
whispering around
my music box
head

My heart
Doesn't belong in
My stomach
Carving out
A hollow place
An attempt
To hold myself
Together

i could be a mirror
i could be a mountain
i could be trees above
a 45 foot fountain
i could be a time bomb
tick tick ticking and then
snap

i could be
anything you needed
and everything i'm not

A drizzle, soft
touches the earth
with thousands of palms

A hurricane
with love held from
within the earth
can move mountains

I can only
hope to touch you
with such
dualities

Loving you is like wanting to know the softness of an exceptionally beautiful cloud. One can only know its touch in the form of rain.

Some
days all I want
is to be
the sun
that kisses
the freckles onto
your shoulders

long drives are good
for counting
short lived
love letters
lasting
laying waste
In some landfill on the border of
Northern Georgia
dreaming of
three four
crushing concrete columns
and shaking out
some of the weight
you may have left
me in the backseat
of my car.

Some days it's difficult to
Escape
The clutches
Of my bed

Am I upset
At your disappointment?
Or just upset
At the way
It makes me feel?

and what a flower
you've picked
crushed beneath
imperfections of the human hand

Wishing
You were the
Tingle at the
Nape of my
Neck

there's so
much
I have
to get
done
but
the only
thing I'm
good
at is
shutting

down

On those nights
That I dare
Sleep alone
I toss
Until my
Feet tangle
In my hair
My back bone
My wind earth
Air
Just missing
The fire
That once
Lay there

I used to say that
I was only a creature of the day
despite my love for
the moons glow
I sent the night away
and now all I wish
to see
is the moon
I know

I'm going to need
three more chimneys
and a lot of wood
to burn all of
the silver tongued
horse ****
that floats out of
your mouth

All I can
Hope
Is that
Soon
I'll be over
The edge

bipolar is
collecting
ten baskets of
fruit
and the next day
realizing that it
was never
quite ripe

as your palms,
much like the ink pressed to my face,
melt and drip
all over the floor
leaving me in
such
       a lonely




          place.

condensation makes
me heavy
but I'm lucky
to have known
the rain

sunlight sunburns
and bruised cheeks
can kiss
until
cracks form along
my skin

but I'm lucky to have
felt
light

I'm so
          so
              blessed
to
constantly
feel so

                                      h e a v y
                                                     &
                                                           l i g h t

mountains
and cradles
and my eyes
which have retreated back
into my skull
because i can't sleep
with all of these polarities
running wild
in my mind

I want to write
A book of poems
But lately words have been
So scarce
However precise
And so painful

i was a poet before
i was a painter
and there's
something about
the way your
gaze is given
that makes
me unsure

3 am makes trees grow taller
i've seen it
falling into the edge of morning
it's gentle like the sway of
my buckling knees
under the weight of
four drinks
and the rush of being in love

i know there have been others
maybe there will be more
that i want to stay awake for -

a play ground at dawn
lost key and found lock,
even the same story
begins to feel
new

Then again
Sometimes you’ll find yourself
Lost like keys in the sofa
It’s so easy to forget
That you’ve been
There before

Remember when we were sweet
Butter cream and gardenias
Not built to last in the
Atlanta south

I am quite familiar with loss
but losing your love
is not something I wish
to ever know.

i need to carry

heavy
               things

so i wont feel the


emptiness


of my own weight

"you don't have shoes on"
poetic lush and the
fires i've always wanted to start
heels dug into asphalt
that's been cracked
by the trees in my
trash filled front
page
front yard
where I yelled
at you in
drunken rage
i wasn't all that
wasted but
my frontal lobe
gave out of me before
it could really let go
of all the
toxic treated
brain stuff
keeping you
at arms length
from me
throat painted
with a dagger and
i'm starting to see
that it's for a reason

"you don't have shoes on"
and i'm trying to be better
and i love you


please don't go

Right now
I feel like
I want to fall asleep
And never wake up

And you said
It’s been a dream
While I’ve been awake
Counting stars on your ceiling
Memorizing each snore into
My neck
Full from food and
Peaceful cinema
You say it’s been a dream
And I’ve always been bad
At telling
The two apart

I've always been a lover
the kind that dives in to the deepest
end of the pool
it's easy to empty
the contents of my lungs
to sink
further
not really knowing
if this water
is safe

and now looking up from
the bottom of you
I've decided
it's time to
come back up
for air

When I think of you
I think of
Bergamot
And flowers
And the artists that
So carefully grow them
To be pressed into
Pages
Protected beneath
Gentle words
And the clouds
That linger
Soft on
cold Sunday mornings

and
when I think of you
I soften too

Talking about sheet cake
And its plasticky persistence
How it holds to the roof of your mouth
The way words carry abundance, multiplicity
And the way roots dig into the ground
Comparing our years
In a wealth of cigarette butts
And saw dust
And new leaves on the plants
We’ve grown since
Ducking under wet branches
And building into ourselves

We’re older friends now

Pressed flowers
Like pages
Of the Bible I’ve never opened
But weighs heavy on my back
Southern strains
The belt
The weight
All pressed
Flowers
In pages

Low flying planes and
The bruises on my legs
Not sure where
They’re from
But I can guess that they’ll
Fade bluish black
Then yellow out
Like the tobacco
Stains I’m sure you
Have on your walls
From smoking in
Your room when it’s cold
It’s too cold
And I think for the first
Time in awhile I really
Feel
Alone
Like how it could
Feel maybe
In space
Or under cool
Dark
Water

please
if you are going to leave
pack your things
while i am away

I deserve good things
Picking pecans from the ground
Peppermint tea on my night stand
I deserve to fall in love
With the indentation in the floor
In front of my kitchen sink
The bliss of
A wooden spoon
How many times a year
Can you give yourself to an idea?

Roses in a pitcher in a window at a suburban Starbucks. They’re still wrapped in the plastic from Publix. A koolaid pitcher. A kind gesture from a stranger to another.

Eating my roommates left over pastina (the kind he makes that I like with carrots and kale) room temp out of the *** while I load the dish washer

While I’m loading the dishwasher it begins to rain (ga is turning into Florida) but I like how the rain looks out the window in front of the plant cuttings I have rooting on the windowsill

The plant cuttings in the cute jars I don’t need to collect but still find joy in collecting

New leaves and how good it makes me feel to talk to them

A *** of tea I bought for two, and even though I’m just one now I can almost always still finish the ***

Peppermint

The tin of loose leaf jasmine, its golden color, and the instruction manual that comes with it. How to make jasmine tea.

Spending as long as I want in the grocery store or famers market

Produce makes me really happy
So does the bakery
So does planning a meal for friends
And so does buying flowers

Crying listening to npr in my car (this American life or wait wait don’t tell me)
Crying feels good sometimes and these programs make me feel closer to my mom even though we’ve almost always lived far apart

Making bread. I can only make focaccia right now and I’m generally bad at baking. This is teaching me a patience that I think I can have else where

Sunbathing

Time in the water til you get pruny and your skin feels slick. This is a specific summer joy in a lake or a river
Maybe the ocean

Public pools and the way little kids really have no spatial awareness
When it’s hot in the summer a lot of parents/babysitters, grandmas, etc bring the little ones into the sun for a few hours. Wading through the 3ft section dodging little kids with goggles that come up gasping for hair all snot faced

The idea that maybe I want kids one day
It’s a nice
Daydream

Talking about daydreams
Making big plans that you aren’t sure will happen, but there’s still joy in the giggling delusion you share with friends or lovers or strangers

The train, the light in the train, the knowing you’re on a train
I mean even Marta

Mushrooms. I think chanterelles changed my life. Brought me back to the day time. Brought me back to connection not involved a dime bag or 20 shots back to back. A day time connection. A natural one cultivated at the roots of oaks.

Oak trees are old.

Black berries grow everywhere in Georgia. I find them hiding along the fences under overpasses. Hushing traffic with their glistening dark pearls and red thorns. I’m not sure I’d eat those but they still bring me joy.

Honey suckle. I thought they smelled like jasmine so I told everyone I had jasmine in my yard. I was wrong. I love the smell and how far it travels. I love the tea I make from it sometimes.

Ash’s giggle and brightening personality
Danielle’s fierce loyalty and dedication
Mias softness, wisdom, and determination
Emma’s playfulness, her creativity, and wanderlust

Theo laying behind me on the couch
Using her as a pillow

Dog birthdays

The guy riding his moped with a plastic rain bubble around it on boulevard

Trying to place a prank call but giggling too much to finish saying anything. The adrenaline hits me despite my failure.

if i could grow a forest
kessler, would you meet me there?

Everything I made today broke
And I keep telling myself that
It’s ok
And to
Love the impermanence
And imperfection of
Creation

The disappointment of it all

And I just
Feel
Go-to-bed-at
8 pm
Sad about it
Ya know

I used to watch my old neighbor
Walk 3 times a day to the edge of his yard
Hands grasped behind his back
Half tucked in white shirt
Yellowed by tobacco or maybe sweat
He’d stand there hands
Holding his own hands
And wait
Just a few minutes
Then like his grey hair
Uncut and curling
He’d wind back
To his front door

Sometimes I’d sit
And watch

Remember when my necklace
Got so tangled in my
Hair that you had to
Cut the chain free?

Something about
The cool scissors
And your hand
Bracing my neck
Felt sweet

& now
The lock you cut
Won’t stay in place
I struggle with it
Most days

I told you once
I was tired
Of living in
Wreck & repair

Now I’m thinking
That’s mostly what everything is

I bit my nails down to the skin again