The year is half over, today is the 30th of June.
The first half of this year went by pretty soon.
In just a few days, we'll celebrate the 4th of July.
Firecrackers will pop and bottle rockets will soar into the sky.
Because of this **** Coronavirus, America has been gripped with fear.
I certainly hope that things will get better during the second half of this year.

Painful is the feeling I experience when I hear the songs you left me with.

I heard someone laugh the same laugh that you did...and I felt my heart sink.

I often ponder you, wondering why I ponder you, but to no avail, I've yet to gain that answer.

It's the bite of bitter experience that I sink before; what did I do to need to go through such trivial...*******?

That's a repetitive thought that dances through my mind.

I sometimes wonder if I am blind, or if maybe I've gone crazy, but lately, I feel like I've been simply trying to decode this puzzle our scenario has placed on my heart.

I'm no longer looking for closure; it was never promised. I am looking for detachment, because I feel less human the more I'm reminded of your existence.

I hope, somehow, this is something I will laugh at in the future.

I grew up with God in the wind,
and didn't fit in with Christian friends.
They told me stories and begged me to repent.
Though doubtful, my anxiety sparked at the thought of sin.

I was once on a playdate and the mother told me.
She disowned her best friend when she confessed she was a lesbian.
She told me she could only take her back if she came to her senses.
It made me feel sad and sick, with little sympathy for the protagonist.

I was once told by a good friend that no one is bisexual, of course they're just confused.
I knew who I was but I didn't say anything in rebuttal.
I just nodded my head and took the bruise.

Once after jokingly seeing my boyfriend and another male friend hold hands, my mother told me "how dare those ******* disrespect you like that."
It was a moment that shattered glass and left scars.
I managed an apology after too much effort.

My stepfather once told me that gender fluidity was a confused phase, and a fad for attention.
Walls were put up and notes were taken.
Doors remained closed and silence  prevailed.

I am complicated.
I blend in to "normal"
I feel guilty at times and don't feel honest.

I undervalue, perhaps, the benefit of looping everyone in.
Or, perhaps, I'm just keeping the peace and heeding warning signals.

I can say for certain, it's not a fad nor phase.
I've always been who I am, I just had to grow up in order to phrase it.

~

<>


nearby distant,
the soft thrash of warm waves
lapping interlocking,
happily wet tongue kissing,
sun-oven precision-crisping
the Long Island striped bass
and porgies, at a surreal cooling
77 degrees

Pandora synced to his eyes,
shuffling freely,
by saying
we too see!!
playing for him,
Stairway to Heaven (Led Zeppelin)

poor, poor poet,
strains to brain drain one more time,
conducting an ogling googling word search
for those combinatory storied ones that
sailboat glide
all the while
wildly bursting with Pellegrino effervescence

compromising sounds sights,
to present
properly the balance,
to preserve
properly this moment,
peaceful alive for all times,
as poet has tried,
and failed so many times before...

the caw caw caw of the crow mocks the illiterate human,
for the bird calls it, in single sound perfect and
the human a laughingstock,
for not in his possess,
to capture this perfect moment
of human sabbath.

a Roman Saturn day of rest,
on this day that itself,
is perfection,
perfect for celebrating our common creation,
on a day that our
almost-all-agreed-upon calendar
is marked for us to
forte rest,
from an existence of just laborious

the chubby checkered cheeked squirrels
laughingly pauses,
watching, enjoying a poet's struggle,
mind boggle,
the poet's chubby cheeks
stuffed with discarded words,
all insufficient to capture
the absolution of
absolute beauty

bathing in the noisiest of nature's sounds,
all that contravene the silence of living things,
breathing prayerful thoughts that all
summary end,
with a common gesture of
forefinger upon the lips

a human acknowledgment of
utter obeisance to the forces
calling out by example

listen, see!

silently presenting,
this,
this!!

a day that demanded perfection

Tropical weather brings along the rain,
Bathing burning skin, scorching sun,
And the tree out front has overgrown
Bright, tiny yellow flowers, sprinkled light.
They emerge, stars amongst the greenery
As we swim across the cooling sea,
Lemon flavor lingers in your mouth,
Sugary kisses, on humid nights.
And the tallest palms, they reach the skies,
Swaying gently, bending in the wind,
Month of June, I breeze, for all the whims,
And we keep each other, discovering.

June is here and summers near, skies are blue while here i am looking up to you.
Can you see me, can you hear me saying, how much i love you but your words keep playing silly songs on the radio.

after this day he starts to disappear again
where minute by minute
day by day
he goes
back into his spot in the sky
where he lets me bask in his warmth

but he's greedy
not letting me fully encapsulate
the joy and delight he provides
by taking away a minute of his light
each day

hopefully he doesn't hide behind the clouds
on june 23
otherwise this poem is a waste
if one were to even call this a poem