I dodge most every postcard      
to be washed away in defeat                                                      
because there's something                  
about self destruction                
that keeps the world off my reality        
other people spitting dust bunnies
when they speak
clouding my language with their foul mouthed debris
becoming a mountain of dirt
I can't get over
these words
for real
aren't me
I
am
becoming
a valley where I hide between
the outside of everybody
and my wildest dreams
From the tops of moments
I breath
in slippery slopes
and hold for backporch memories
the neighbors are away
so it's ok to get loud and free
my darling there are
the cattails from your mamas creek
connected to the dots
that I trace back through memories
from my perch upon now
my junkyard soul
noticing wheels that are missing
from the things they were made to roll
into a tire swing
into racing streetlights
for scraped knees turning to
children remembering a wedding ring
because we told them marriage was how you take honesty
and make it concrete
before we took their honesty
and made it history
I
am trying to build something
that wont blow away with the leaves
oh I turn red blushing blood though my veins that are like trees
bound to be framed in some hillside autumn landscape of me
with words that have always been too vague
to translate my name
but as I grow that's subject to change
as is everything
so I'll consider of what I am made
and all that water may wash away
all of desire's delays
turning fatalistic denial
into some authentic decay