sigh of ***
like melted wax
laying in bed
same pool of death
irresistible
slow
descend
when the light
gets through
and touches us

i watch the water
beam from the sun
and that is what you call
making love

the earth is the greatest poet i know
in her feathery grasses
i picnic with my soul

near the root
where the insects
feed on the sap drips
of a colossal tree
once a small seed
now dripping thousands
to the floor
she says

don't you know
you have more
to grow and to
give

she sang me like
a ballad
i am a lover reclaimed

I am brave
Because I give a ****!

I used to be as bitter as the wood
waiting to catch fire and
I looked forward to a good cry
at night
But mornings were good for me
I woke up thinking like maybe
I had mastered what it’s like to be alone
Maybe I had mastered what it’s like to
fill up a room
of silence
with just my breath
My spirit starts to get cocky
at how it's learned the rhythm
of a stone
rippling through the water
about to head home
sinking like some
deep sea creature
allowed to live
in the abyssal zone
20,000 feet deep in
nothing but my own
unshakable core

I cannot thank you enough for the days
where I had a pool of words
I did not know where to place
And if it wasn’t for this microphone
carrying the weight of my day
I would only be the tune
that a hammer makes against the wall

where no matter how dull
the day wrung me, this stage
somehow made canvas out of
my face, and I could go home
and sleep knowing that maybe
I can inspire love when you look at me

Where a tequila with orange juice is only $5
Where the bartender made sure I didn’t drink too much
Where dance music has a conscious
Where an amethyst stone spoke my name
Where the painters aren’t afraid to use their guts as a brush
Where a poet has an audience

Where our existence is reassured

And what else could an artist
possibly want more
when that is what we question
all of the time

We learn to make
better friends
with bigger numbers
and less time
It is now
that we
understand
the magic
of the seasons
when they
click
and change
And like the berries
that one day
get picked
no one can steal
the spring
that turned us
beautiful
ripe
and red

If insomnia were a bicycle, I’d ride it
As I watch my yawn open eye
Wide awake I’d smell the roses
trace their spikes and wear their lipstick
And excuse me if the dreamers can’t smell it
A fever akin to a violin’s soundest
Cutting right through 4AM
with a blade of flicker
With an undestined dim...

I’d ride past the bus stop I walk to everyday
Hang my black coat and never claim it again
I’d ride to the point where I’d make it to work on time
But my boss to never see my face again
And if the hour hand were any slower
I swear…

I’d finally meet you
And when I do finally come to see you
our glass cages will then shatter

Out of the wreckage, a new kind of disaster

A happy one
but I’d have to warn you

I don’t have time for greeting cards
Or flat moons beaming dial tones
Because I am the type of girl
to eat my fruit with my eyes closed
And in this perpetual childhood
I am my own mother in a rocking chair
Back and forth
Am I almost there
If insomnia were a bicycle, I’d ride it
Straight into the sunset, I’d watch the sunrise