there are so many of you
that i would love to sit down with;
maybe over a milkshake and a plate of fries;
and just talk.
i want to ask you about the boy that hurt you,
about the anger you feel deep inside
over a father who said he’d come back...
and then didn’t.
i want to run with you through pages of words and say
“oh that’s right, what a lovely metaphor.”
i want to see all your smiling faces and
thank each and every one of you for showing me kindness,
for saving my life.
i want to collaborate on novels of poetry
and laugh with you through the tears of our pasts.
so until we sip those milkshakes and eat those fries...
thank you, to
some of the most beautiful people i have never met.

The blind man too,
enjoys birdsong, sun on his face,
pungent scents of spice, the
perfume of flowers.
Even the flute pipes sweeter when
undistracted.

In solitary silence
taste the freshly peeled orange,
enjoy the citrus spray,
remember this spaceless,
pin-wheeling sensation.

Savor the memory of
of morning gold rush,
summer blues in lazy sky,
rose and amber dusk falling,
nights when the moon hung so low
light brushed your cheek with slumber
and you saw heaven through the eyes of a dream.

We created all the words
all the meanings
to increase the complexity
of everything that exists
or it does not.

just because you've been through hell
does not mean you cannot come out
as an angel

You slither through the grass like a snake
Watching me as I walk, oblivious
To your plot, your chase, your capture
And then you attack.
Lunging at me, sinking your teeth into me.
I cry out in pain, shocked
You bite harder as I cry,
And I swear I can almost hear you laughing.
As you let go, I find myself numbing to the pain of your sting
Yet at the same time,
Wishing for another bite.
Despite the hurt, why do I feel charmed that it was me you preyed upon?
-n.a