air is for the body, but the mind is shakespeare's-
sister maria hates the bells and sings, "if only I knew girls like me"
roses bloom sweet, and romance seems so far away
in the morning sermon, all breathe and everyone is
skimming the bible for poetic entries
this is for the body, but the mind is
bequeathed to language and linguistic love

-c.j.

kid's gooey t-shirt can go through the wash
no need to pull the panic cord
one must kick their blues to the side and do
what they know is inevitably best

maybe you only want it because you're lonely
in the inner city, craving a way to calm down
laundry detergent kills the peanut butter,
***** it into the sparkling void, making libraries
look *****
messes are divine;
when made together, they are not for naught

-c.j.

you murmur into my shoulder that I am an angel
your lips tracing my collar with wanderlust
time is dancing, inside, outside, nearside, farside
while our eyes talk, our instincts are waiting for a war
expecting something to go amiss, yet we still speak
into each other's skin:
"you walk in beauty,"
as we dance alongside the clocks

-c.j.

tales of the mountains' sound, scandinavian girls dancing, happy
together they sing
this too shall pass, this is not everlasting
light is their hair and twisted is their logic
they confuse the seasons, an iceberg for the sun
still they spin, blissfully unaware of the brewing storm

-c.j.

everyone you know calls you the tame one
like you were lost and found and were always sleeping
lessons learned: don't fake sick, muse often, ask "how soon? is now ok? am I used up?"
we go for those who could be real heroes, they say
so you cough up nothing to clear your brain and go back to sleep,
the same as before

-c.j.

I miss you and the bridges we built, even when your ghost
whispers, how are you
I remember the weekend we found bones in the ground
you told me to roll up my sleeves, this is no small discovery
we dug till midnight
mile after mile it seemed, though it was merely meters
oh boy, you exclaimed, we've hit the bottom
and that was similar to our adieu

-c.j.

they are waiting for something good
can work erase the bad?
kids eat mudpies and cry "mushaboom, mushaboom"
there goes the fear they once had for the wild
now it's become a phantom limb

-c.j.