the city lights
press their wings
against the glass,
watercolored
by raindrops.

her walls a profusion
of coral rich
carnations getting lost
in them remembering
how the curtains held her.

in the heat of it all,
the flowers begin
to peel themselves
off the wallpaper,
suspend themselves
over us in midair,
coming to life,
falling in slow motion.

As if we’re the first two brushstrokes.
As if our hands
together clasped emerging out of serene water
everything. Spending our time
chasing light in shadow
acting nonchalant about it.

From her window we saw
headlights moving up and
down the city. Their light
against the glass watercolored
by raindrops.
I remember how the curtains held her.

If I could peel just the flowers
off her wallpaper, suspend
them over us in midair and
have them come to life––
In the heat of it all, I’d let them
fall in slow motion.

Take me to the snow
monkeys in the hot springs
of northern Japan.
Let me hold one as she combs
the water by my back over
and over.
I’ll note each snowflake
that settles on her fur
and i’ll really
be––

Let me get lost
somewhere near ocean.
I want to ask the wandering albatross
where to go.

Maybe when the trees float unsuspended
I can sit atop a mountain goat and
finally stop thinking.
We'll watch the morning sun
clear the fog.

(from the time my mother dressed
me, my little legs drumming the
air. From the time I stepped on
to the yellow schoolbus
and waved to my parents
goodbye;) They knew that one
day, I’d learn to break out of my body
and fly into the starry night.

creaking across the hallways aching
spine past fading family photos
into her room

the charcoal colored nightstand
on which lay a worn handkerchief and
his wedding ring
as he reads articles about oil
and the depression illuminated by lamplight

the folding newspaper makes way
for a wedding ring glimmer
to meet her eye
and memories of family dinners and
half-remembered lullabies
carry her to bed

the floor stops aching as she lays down,
her memories fester and she begins to weep
silently, not letting any tears
grow old enough to leave her

the sound of turning newspaper pages fills the room

outside, a family of puddles gasp for air
as the rain smothers them.

I remember those poignant
vignettes she wrote last year
they watercolored my heart
and made my pride so delicate
at a time when the sun set
every day and I watched it
thinking of her and the music
played and overflowing
nostalgia trickled down
my cheeks illuminated
by the oh god sun please
I dont want to grow up

many times near dusk
I give earnest attempts
at falling in love
with your incandescence

burning
ochre holes into my
weary retinas waiting in
awe

today, a great wall of
immoveable cloud is draped over
your descent, and shelters
my eager eyes

now you emerge
into a space of regal beauty
and I can't see the spot where I
write this and don't care

A perfect pastel circle casting
a fishing line of shimmer into
the subtle ocean

In this moment a sailboat meets
your fishing line, says hello,
and completes me.

the coral sun
perched on horizons
throne
said to the clouds
become night,
shade
with little clasped hands
the last bits of light
in neglected
attics

I pour water down the universe
and my body receives it well

as the triangular fingers of the sailboats
point to the rippling clouds,
the shimmering finger of the suns
reflection against the sea points at me
and suddenly

a congress of wings
soar overhead and I
die for the moment

Goodbye- Sun
just me and the clouds now

and a memory of your dancing
winged
shadows

I

the river
                          soars
like sun white
horses galloping,
shimmering, glistening

the gallop a harmony
of cacophony
to my listening eyes

what an idyllic
                           sky pink-azure
bringing excellence to rest.
tomorrow the white river
horses will fly like jazz
to my listening eyes

II

half stuttered premonitions ease
at sight of indigo accented flowers.
                  in goat land, clouds turn
                  to white wisps of doves.
the mountain
                            is
                                   with us
a chipmunk at the summit
makes waves through the landscape
dancing like a tambourine

wishes and hopes curl
around my face enveloping
me in Washington air

I see you looking at the chipmunk
and smile like

          really nice,
          your
                    smile
                                is
          really really

          nice

Among the frost and quiet cold,
snow waltzing on my brow,
I breathe and listen to the winter
wonderland

My seat a halo of snow,
a humble nest born from
my weight against this winter
wonderland

And I feel alive and I feel calm
and I could shatter like weary alabaster
statues into snowflakes and become
part of this winter wonderland

If I could just --
shatter

Here, In the brightening forest,
only the fleeting stars can see me

The newborn air I breathe
bathes me in safety and I

Bloom, forget, and
ebb into meditation.

oh look
a deer;

maybe if i'm quiet

you keep me awake
eroding desire for learned things

the aching reality seeps
into the dinner i’ve yet learned
how to cook

TV,
numb the onset of a depression
bound to break me
as it already has to my family

a family intoxicated,
sitting staring submissive
to your sermon, the rippling pool
of sounds too stale to in and
exhale

I watch you indoctrinate
placid as a vegetable

like a euthanized dog
falling asleep I slide into
senselessnessbliss

…

oh

finally

my favorite show

the travel one I seldom see

take me to the places
I long for so much

I saw the fly land on her lips
Figured he was hoping for a kiss
For I remember the drone
A peculiar tone
That reminded me of nervousness
She’s a pretty girl
So I don't blame the fly
But I don't know why
He thought he had a chance
“Poor fly, you’re no man!
Man up!” said I
“How?...” said the fly
“...I never should've tried...”
Weeping
As it flew away
For I remember the drone
A peculiar tone
That reminded me of hopelessness

structure, form, and
political
correctness
drip down tired
backs
as
dreams fade
to forgotten
facts.
once baptized
in scholarly review,
cry
till the fire’s
put out in you.
and when the pain
leaves your
solar plexus
learn structure, form
and political
correctness.

pale computer light reflecting off your skin.
shining brightest off the whites of your eyes.
you don’t look at me until I say your name.
I wish you looked me in the eye more.
at college my friends seem surprised when
I say I have a brother

I love you Lucas. I love you so much.

when I got home today you said:
“I’m watching that TV show you recommended,
it’s really good!
how’s college?
how long are you staying?
how was that concert?”
after I talked to you for a while,
I took a shower.
I curled up and cried with my
mouth opened up so wide I could of been
screaming. I made no sounds.
I didn’t want you to hear.
it was the first time you’ve ever asked me
more questions than I’ve asked you.

It’s rooted inside him
he’s a dove carrying an olive branch
a tree planted by the omnipotent
jesus died for him
for the world!
yet civilization thrives, ignorant of their savior
salvation is inherent upon grasping the gravity of His donation
they don’t understand
they just don't understand...
why…?
“Jesus died for your sins, please… it’s the word of God!”

As he drives home at the end of the day,
mournful for the witnesses who neglected his call,
listening to music somewhat static,
and finding wonder in the familiar sunset,
he thinks:
Maybe tomorrow, someone will hear me

what a dreary blank expression
she carries on her pretty face.
as the breeze kisses her neck
slightly more than she’d like
she feels cold.
it’s time to go inside.
but before any motivation to get up
reaches her apathetic mind
she sits there, cold
and thinks, nothing

i think i’m attractive
some girls say I am
not a ton
enough to where i’m ok
sometimes ill look in the mirror and not want to look away
sometimes
sometimes ill wonder why im in a 14 year olds body when im 19
i think i’m weak
i’m too skinny
but im selfish
really selfish
some people cry themselves to sleep because they dont have my body
i cry myself to sleep sometimes
wahhh wahhh wahhh
shut the **** up *****
youre attractive

i have a headache
i’m sad for petty reasons, its very discouraging
maybe its the rain
i want sleep, i want to dream
i, i, i, i
shut up
not satisfied
i, i, i, i really am a happy person
the acne really shows in the white room
especially if its bright
a bleak white room with nothing in it
except my face
i wanna slice my skin off with a knife. it'll look better
im scared of trying to make this good
because if i put in effort, it won't be that great
people will say “oh its pretty good”
but they wont think its good at all
i don't know how to try
i, i, i, i