the sun wears a cape on its shoulders
and when it fades below the horizon,
the cape cloaks the world in darkness.
the moon finds its place in the sky
to help the sun bestow its light
and guide us out of the shadows.
the stars twinkle to support the moon,
and we find the light in the darkness
until the sun returns to the sky.

I jump into a handstand,
flipping my world onto its head.
the tree dangles from the earth
like my feet in the air.
my hands seize the grass
as I attempt to hold on.
so I reunite with the ground,
and my hands release their burdens.

baby ducks are enveloped
within their mother's shadow,
gliding across the pond.

but under the surface,
the ducks furiously kick
to stay above water.

the air parts like the Red Sea
so a spaceship can soar,
even as the world
drags it down.

she breaks orbit
to release the earth.
she is now free to float,
and the universe guides her.

shrug off the shoulder aches
as laughter bounces off the walls.
shimmy out of the daily traffic
and into the well-lit streets.
clink glasses to accompany a song
in which everyone shouts the words.
when it's over, float atop the world
with hearts buoyed by love.

constant companion
that puts me under its spell -
the world falls away.

it scatters my thoughts,
leaving me in a thick fog
until I slam it shut.

the jagged cave summons me
with its stark shadow.
crystals bearing sharp knives
greet me at the entrance.
my hands stay at my sides,
but I keep an eye on the knives.
as the cave envelops me,
the crystals harness sunlight.
their guidance sees me through,
and the cave is now behind me.

fragile umbrellas are strewn
across the cluttered forest floor,
nourishing strong connections
from all over the world.
their gills are loaded weapons
that fire spores into the air
at the speed of light.
if we blink, we miss it -
and the umbrellas multiply.

when the ocean resides in the cavity of my chest / and the world freezes over / icicles bare their teeth as their menacing shadows creep closer to my sternum / and I choke on frigid air.
he carefully wraps my heart in a blanket / then collects sun rays between his lips / bestowing them onto my heart with warm kisses.
the icicles melt away / and I bask in the sun.

dew rests on sheer leaves
as saplings lilt in the wind  
and I follow suit.

I am forged in a ceramic kiln,
and the sweltering heat embrittles me.
their withering stares set the kiln ablaze,
expecting me to stay rigid and brittle.
I attempted to constrict and be good,
but the fire slowly cracked me.  
the heat still scorches my pieces,
but each piece inches closer
to the outskirts of the kiln
so I can find the sticky glue
and put myself back together.

their fingers twist around strings
that are tethered to firm balloons.
whenever we see them,
they fly above everyone else,
their taunts trailing behind them.
but when their balloons deflate,
they crash into the rocky earth,
and their taunts are buried.
air always escapes.

ink melts through paper
during heat, cold, rain, and snow
to mark every heart.

flames raze the forest,
bringing it to its knees.
ashes line the ground,
fertilizing the charred soil.
the clouds mourn for the forest,
blessing the ground with its tears.
seeds of all sizes land,
and the sun wakes up to greet them.
a garden rises from the ashes.

the church used my burning soul to light the candles for every service / my innocence floated away with the smoke from the censer / the past and present clashed like cymbals / and it hurt my ears.
time ran down the slippery ***** of the hourglass / my vocal cords struggled to come together / oxygen left the air / and my flame was nearly extinguished.
so no / I will not give a cent / because I was the donation shared amongst everyone else / even as I burned.
no more.

He greets me with a light kiss
reminiscent of a monarch butterfly
delicately landing after a long migration.

Iced lemonade in a glass
rests on the table in front of us,
witnessing the butterflies on our faces.

Water vapor relaxes when it sees us,
and the glass leaves a culaccino
for forever and a day.

they stuff "yes, no matter what" / "you're always wrong" / "what will people say?" / into a flimsy puppet skin / rigidly moving the strings in one direction / whenever someone comes over / they mount the puppet on the wall / proudly showing off their prized creation.
but when their eyes come to a close / the puppet feels scorching strings on its shoulders / it reaches inside / gutted by what it sees / one by one / it examines each phrase / it takes everything out / replaces it with "no" / "I am not always wrong or right" / "what do I say?" / and slowly snips the strings off its shoulders / so it can walk freely.

butterfly in palm
as bright April flowers bloom -
my heart meets nature.

My fingers ached as I pried a box
from the sides of my mail slot.
I ripped it open with my bare hands,
and found a note written in cursive:
"Put both feet into the box."
I raised my eyebrows and smirked,
but I stepped into the box.
The base folded in on itself,
and my feet crashed into waves.
My lover floated with the seaweed
until he finally reached me.
His hands brushed my shoulders,
and I whispered, "I think we're lost."
My arms burned as I valiantly fought
to reach the uneven surface,
but his eyes sparkled with mischief
as he took my webbed hands,
pulling me toward the ocean floor.
Flashes of light hit my eyes.
and he led me toward the light.
My fingers brushed the floor,
then wrapped around a rough chain,
and my heart punched my chest.
Glittering diamonds surrounded
a heart of azure sapphires.
He led me back to the surface
as the heart overpowered me.
He unclasped it with ease,
placing it around my neck.
As my hand lightly rested in his,
the water droplets joined us
as we flew toward the sky
right back out of the box,
our hands still intertwined.

her heart soars straight over cloud nine
when she holds the number seven to her chest.
her fingers are adorned by five golden rings
and she trusts in the holy trinity.
she follows the partridge to the pear tree,
and her eyes bore into mine,
expecting me to follow her every step,
but I can only stand and watch.

a person barely within earshot
may absorb the cheerful ring in my voice.
they see me in glimmering gold
embellished with refracting glass -
always with crinkles adorning my eyes.

someone else may be right across the table
and see small smoke tendrils escaping my ears.
laughter follows the smoke, and it fades away.
they see dull gold topped with smashed glass.
the crinkles sometimes disappear,
only to return a few seconds later.

A few can see my heart whenever they like.
they hear unsteady tremors between words.
they see billowing smoke
emanating from my ears and mouth.
they know the wrapping is gold foil
with smashed hourglasses piercing my skin.
the crinkles appear whenever they want.
nevertheless, they see me rise, even as I ache.

I, the permanent resident of this body,
shed the itchy foil whenever I can.
my cells are clouded by smoke,
and the hourglass fractals
swirl into a tornado behind my sternum.
the crinkles have been starched.

But, I remember I am walking on diamonds,
and I slowly sculpt my armor.
I exhale, and the smoke clears, bit by bit.
I reach behind my sternum,
grabbing the fractals to line my armor.
I splash water onto my face,
and the corners of my eyes crinkle again.

They reached behind my sternum,
wrapped their hands around my heart,
and attempted to strangle it.
I pried their aching hands away,
and I tore my bleeding heart in half.
One half shaped itself into bread,
and the other half fermented into wine.
My eyelids slowly came together
as I let the holy water wash over me.
My words consecrate the communion,
and I bless it for people to consume
so we remember that we're not alone.

when we fall deep into the never-ending abyss
where biting, caustic words nip at our shoulders,
we forget how to ward them off, but we can.
we can with these ingredients:
- aloe vera infused with compassion
to nurse the acidic sting of those words,
- honey that sticks to toxic atoms,
protecting us from further damage,
- a flame to remind us of our humanity
so we can join with **** sapiens across time,
- and coffee to give us presence of mind
to stay in this very moment.
We can take what we need,
whenever we need it.

If I could melt the confines of my body and spread out into the ocean / I would / push through jagged unwieldy rocks in my path / take up as much space as I need / gently remind the unsettled shores of my presence / encourage my finned inhabitants as they trek across / race past the sharks without a racing heart / vaporize into the sky / and undulate with the moon for all eternity.

seconds are drops of water in a river.
everyone starts at the top,
and according to many,
we can only coast with the waves,
following their path until the end,
and the river cannot be moved -
no matter what happens.
but how can the river stay on course
when torrential, destructive hurricanes
dislodge debris and soil from the ground?
when the path is blocked,
the river has to pave its own way.

sweet, full, red apples
plucked, crushed, pulverized to chill -
loved in scorching heat.

endearing words and suggestive eyes brightened the room / accenting conversations that flowed smoother than honey / souls spun / quickly approaching and nearly colliding / unravelling like two ribbons / one maroon / one ebony / until one day / ebony suddenly curled back into itself / maroon was suspended in air for years / as if steeped in time / but dense air weighed maroon down / so maroon descended / letting go / when ebony came back in its unraveled glory / maroon curled back to itself.

the dark limb splits the moon
from the expansive, pitch-black sky.
at a distance, we paint it
as a glowing, surface level circle
that we place our wishes onto.
we never listen to it in return,
so the limb fiercely protects
the whispers of the moon.

My body is sixty percent water,
and I attempt to float with the oil,
coasting with closed eyes and mind.
But I am sinking to the bottom of the glass,
where cold, hard rocks bruise with the truth,
and I press my hands to the glass to keep myself standing.

Although the rocks ground me,
the submersion chokes my throat.
If I crack the glass with my bare hands,
the acid-laced arrows will lacerate my back,
and I will be a trembling target fading into mist.
but the gentle breeze will greet me with open arms.