winter brought cabin fever, which was harder
to diminish because I was in love
illumination whites intensely, brusquely,
despite the heavy woodwork flaunting comfort

beauty was within the blustery coats, fear was
whittled away due to blooming images of us together
it waxes in beams dripping thick happy wishes
from corners bright

what was brutally captivating fed me, ushered
out the cold, which would always delve through
broken ideas of love and lace them back together,
the same as they were before, and tighter

-c.j.

I lost the paper that has what I wanted to say
please excuse my improvisation and wandering gaze
as I stumble through my speech
in front of the crowd, I am reminded of terrors and
horrors that come with forgetting
so here I am, scouring my internal archives
I'm sorry, again

-c.j.

no matter what you're told, that colour will
always speak volumes to you in the same way
they don't say all this could be yours, but hues
and shades of the sky rest in your blood
hearts like ours beat with the atmosphere,
despite everyone's changing flows,
we stay sensitive to the sights

-c.j.

we are in nobody's empire, watching
the dimming light
in the sky we hear the thunder clatter,
and ask the palm reader what the
lightning bolts mean on our hands
the laws of the universe are unbound,
she says
science, merely an old friend
gravity's been lifted, now, so
float and see reason blend

-c.j.

I knew I was falling when you said,
"let me take you out," and I smiled
you give me paper knees, my dear
my balance is all thrown off
each breath fills me deeper
with perfume and a cough
can any air pierce winds
dragging me from blue, even oceans
trace all imprinted breaks, my dear
may keeping pieces make you whole

-c.j.

where is the place that the soul meets body?
my spirit yearns to know its home
why won't you tell me where the soul meets body?
paris, london, rome
the vigour in my layers will not die
until I know

-c.j.

don't run in the streets, now
you are no longer a child
eighteen years past nineteen ninety six
is what you are
walking a line drawn for that
seemingly eventual someday that is today
don't run, not even in your mind
for if you trip and fall, you'll be left behind

-c.j.

the screen reads
private caller
I answer and it is someone real,
not a robot this time
you're surrounded by your friends
I can hear them as you say,
"it's not you, it's me"
I hang up,
a moment of quiet
then all my bells are ringing

-c.j.

this poem is not about angels nor demons,
but humans and their faulty stars
how they sleep with a pile of words
on their head,
which gets tossed to the floor when
the alarm clock screams six
how they seek refuge in an arcade,
playing each game to the end,
leaving empty-pocketed
how they think, I can't rest until we
start to kiss
when lips only beg for more upon meeting
so yes, this poem is not about gods nor devils,
but people, breathing, heartbeating people
who sleep and play and wonder
when it will cease

-c.j.

this is my rescue song to you
amid the parachute
you float right next to me
I know I'm not the only one
to be blinded by your sun
or burned by your heat
is safety here?
this is my rescue song to you
amid the parachute
you float right next to me

-c.j.

hey wolf, precious wolf
you know I love you
I'm sorry you are sad today
but remember, everyone feels that way
sometimes a part of me says to let them in,
these unhappy friends
and there is not a dry eye once I do
I know that everybody's watching me,
but I remember everyone has made mistakes
you are a precious wolf
we will keep reminding each other of these things
that sadness makes us forget

-c.j.

passive-aggressive
submissive-combative
the sirens of your toxic spirit encourage
competition that I cannot stand for
so I fall straight back again
my blood hiking up the thermometer
to boiling point

-c.j.

bliss is a wrecking force
the kisses are little wars causing our trouble
the metronome seems to say,
"there, there, hear this night song, the dark sky's
crystallised stars have made it for you"
so the music brings peace like it usually does,
surrendering the fight to solace

-c.j.

he was a sweet talker and I drowned in the honey
wrote songs about what we'd wanted, disillusioned me
with a one-sided duet
used to tell me it's ok to drink away pain, that it could
fix this damage done
I was stuck in the state of dreaming, hypnotised by his
unchained melody-
"wouldn't you want it to be easier, be with someone who
treats you well?" he asked,
drawing a deceptive halo above his head
when he was the one who only wanted to drag me into his bed

-c.j.

the first time we touched was
the coinciding of many lives
though I only felt purely my own
it may have been the crashing of
the hardest of hearts,
forming holograms that shine with infinity
but my heart felt soft as it finally reached yours,
and stayed there, finally home

-c.j.

I want to go home, all of this slipping around
feels like wobbly knees and ice skates
fate is pressed in a book whose prologue reads,
it'll get you there
to think that this volume is caged under
the slab of frozen rink
inspires more homesickness,
and my eyes blink and blink

-c.j.

any number divided by itself is one
it's two of us on the run, running for cover
as gods left and right and up and down yell
"take it or leave it," our pulses triple
to the number we divided by itself

-c.j.

"take me to church," the con man said
and I agreed to it, as I was yet to see
his feignness, his shrouded cloud cast
over the sunny afternoon
I thought I was moving on, getting somewhere,
but I was chasing reflections of someone
I thought I knew,
trapped in a mirror's maze until winter

-c.j.

all because a girl afraid chose to be brave-
refused to ignore her intuition,
saw beauty in every little thing,
divinity in patterns,
the intrinsic god in everyone

but you fail to ask what came before-
this was a long time coming,
and it was filled with lofty cries and
sunken amethyst days
until the girl said, "meet me somewhere,"
nice was the only word spoken to describe her
she has become brave in the face of a thousand fears

-c.j.

the night has opened my eyes
I see each symbol and number in my deck
from your pack of cards
when I'm small I count my total
and when I can't wake up I realise
love is not a dream

I truly fell for the boy with a thorn
in his side
I am rapt during our every car ride
"you don't have to wake up every morning thinking,
last night I dreamt that somebody loved me"

we breathe the truth without resistance
our clubs and spades and diamonds and hearts
are more vivid than before
the night has opened your eyes
please don't close them when morning comes

-c.j.

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.

tonight's jigsaw puzzle is a bunch of little white lies
lying in little strange shapes
their edges give me a deep sweat, no matter how near or far
from home I happen to be
fictional fragments like messages in a bottle,
pleading mercy with human nature and other curses

-c.j.

the tower holds no princess, only water,
the life of these parts- without it, they'd drop dead
blues and greys of the skies don't interrupt the inner waves
they know they must only hover

-c.j.

new york, 1940
standing in the train station
abuzz with news of other towns and cities
all concerning the day at hand, far away from yesterday
the past puts on a vanishing act, the pieces become
"the apparition of these faces in the crowd;
petals on a wet black bough"
we shiver because we are out of our minds,
touching ghost after ghost, tickets in trembling hand

-c.j.

upon our arrival the holy assume we're evil
friends mistake us for enemies
but we cannot condemn them,
the flowers look like dead drums, songs sound like sirens
no hero nor heroine could save us
there is no death better than this

-c.j.

it's monday afternoon, my least favourite time
machine poetry appears borderline insane, and
I get this fear for my identity, this fear that,
when it's over,
I'll realise it was really nothing

-c.j.

my friend was in love with a boy who put a shotgun to his head
and pulled the trigger and broke her heart
at his funeral someone said the reason why, the real thing that caused him to do this, could never be known, we'd just have to wait for the morning sun
his speech was bitter and I tasted lemon
the world may believe that the truth is buried, too,
but I believe it's waiting there to be found by people who care about the reason why, the real thing
because it is not a passing fancy; it is not a myth

-c.j.

I used to know a boy who would mumble the answers
in science class when the teacher talked about outerspace
the rest of us were mind over matter, paper airplanes in our heads, but we'd say we listen- we do
parties later in high school, he was never at
he moved a couple hours west, and as I sit on the couch watching my peers dancing, their steps lusting
love for physics and chemistry and the knowledge in between came to mind, the love the boy had for them
I wonder if he could tell me or show me
anything interesting, anything of worth,
anything unlike the empty chatter and exhausted gossip currently around me
I should have listened harder when he would mumble

-c.j.

this is a riot, it started years ago
and will go on tomorrow
is yesterday more innocent, because then we were on
a carousel ride, being Phoebe and not Holden, yet

-c.j.

everlyn is sitting in front of me taking the test and I can't help but think when I leave in a week there will be new dreams and I will be both young and old and everyone will sing happy birthday even friends of friends whom I've never met
but then everlyn's pencil drops and so does my cloud of thought

-c.j.

rumours spread that medusa has starry eyes
the kind that embrace the others' before turning them to stone

-c.j.

tell me what to write in my journal
give me an overdose of kisses, admire my red lips and how they speak of winter
light a candle for me, I am coming back
when we fell in the vineyard and realised you're all I need
draw my name between two points, alpha and omega
remember that you are loved despite your faults, as you love me, the more faulty one

-c.j.

her name was anastasia and she was born under a dark star
the royal family fled from the fire, but for her it was too late
princess of russia, whose fate was so bad, girls everywhere
still claim to be her, take her identity
(how can this be? mine is empty)

-c.j.

some mornings I can't stop humming "seven nation army" and tapping mercilessly on the desk
it reminds me of when I used to think, well, I'll just see you when we're not both so emotional, even if I was head over heels in love

it reminds me of when people like you filled the heavens, whose veins are blue and angelic, while mine are just creases
does it remind you of the time you said I think I like you?
I've seen horizon after horizon through windows of this summer house, but what can I say about their beauty compared to yours?

-c.j.

don't bring me downtown with those cool kids
I'm sick of your habits and calling him charming when he isn't
it's over, I don't want to be a pretty body on fire
I'm leaving this self-entitled empire

-c.j.

stop me if you've heard this-
a day in the life entails clairvoyant sights
authorities accuse us, they say you break the rules
you lied when you told us that we didn't set the place on fire
(you started it with your minds)

-c.j.

she's got you high on these dreams
cigarettes that you seek out and steal
even if she's across the universe

met through a stolen dance on the edge of seventeen
there were no coattails but she was rapt
she thought you were mr. darcy
I could never figure it out
heaven knows your self-esteem is
never going to get as high as you can

-c.j.

"forever," I say when you ask since when
have my eyes been so deep blue
you reveal that they have a bit of violence in them, or violets- I couldn't hear you very well
when we kissed, the flavour of your lips, I thought felt right
you jangled your keys as we walked to your car
it gets better, you say about the album we're listening to on the stereo
and it does, it does

-c.j.

men in white coats call their valentine, asking,
"are you there, sweetheart? I'm in london, watching your videotapes,"
while I sit on the cold patient's bed, wondering if I could
capture a phone call with my boyfriend, find out how the party was,
if his father has gone up in the business
but then I am chemical dizzy
and then the doctor whispers to hush my teenage mouth, that I'm only in high school
that all I do is go to the dance hall and eat lucky charms the next morning like a child
I used to believe I was a prodigy, even if all I could do was tie-dye
the medicine puts me to sleep and the white coat clad man tells my parents it's not serious

-c.j.

it was fall yet I dreamt of february air
and the waters of march
I wanted to play it right, become an animal,
obey the generals and run a marathon in roses, a garden race
before the cafe is a cathedral,
where midnight starts a waltz, hints at more modern times
the times that hold bedroom eyes, every holiday, birthday, funeral, every beat, city, every kind of splendour
that sends our hearts running wild
the times that hold such strangeness and charm, fiction,
even pigeons, even demons
I wanted to cling to the bravado; be no one's girlfriend; in a coma for six weeks; see science and visions and multiplication like a movie script, ending
I wanted to decorate each plain verse, make the grey into pink, tessellate the shapes of its inherent hearts and knives

it was fall and you asked if like empty bottles, we float
if I would change my name to ingrid
if all our weekends could echo of pleasure sighs
I wanted to embrace the atlantic, climb to new heights,
come awake

but could a schoolboy help me do these things?
could he lay beside me in the snow and call it paradise?
would he make me stare into mirrors all night,
waiting by the phone? would he make me feel like I was nothing ordinary?

-c.j.

in september I thought there was a formula, a frequency, for
making someone fall in love with you
but then I learned to be careful who you dance with, especially the
slow dances that give you double vision
it dawned on me that I couldn't be haunted by april anymore,
that I'd have to taste the sun again and stop hitting my bumper
against illusive fantasy
**** the clown, that evil joker with smiling scars, the one that gives you creature fear
when the voice starts, turn it off
listen to the shores instead, seashell sounds for just
a little bit
it will help me close my eyes against the scene and people like you
tonight please wait up for me- do you want it all? these filthy halls?
we can't always avoid bad karma, or escape psychasthenia,
even when we're filled with loneliness and the scream that begs
of the someone, who are you, really?
you taste of heaven and human emotion but will we last through october?

-c.j.

the library is our garden of eden
we entered innocent and
left not so
I partook of the forbidden fruit-
(kiss, an emphatic kiss)

-c.j.

you're full of dread, I'm full of wonder
we use our veins as portals, resembling
blue shades of happenstance

back then they were hues of black,
fierce antimatter
now I'm shuffling my cards to
surprise myself

-c.j.

we're hollowed out and it's blissful
perfection in ice-cube form
the credits are rolling and you speak as if
words burn your tongue
take me to those places you used to only
like going to alone
oh, vast and relentless is our trouble,
and we love it

-c.j.