I am steadily thinning
             light blues holding me together
                                                      tr­ying to
  a rambling wisp
                     nebulous and airy
I want to puff out my chest
    be abstract art
                              for your interpretation

  I look down at you
                         as you look up
                                                        I am dying
such is the cycle off it all
            I hope
                              simply
                       ­   that in my shedding
                                                     you will prosper
                  that when I rain down
                                                    you will catch me

or try to

today is yesterday's hope
    but tomorrow
           tomorrow holds everything the past
hasn't seen

an oracle says omens
                                      are constantly presenting
if you just look
                             or listen

I've been looking all my life
and the message is clear
        tomorrow
        tomorrow will be my day
as soon as the clock strikes 13
                    it's my time

mom says safety and security are key
teacher says Maslow's hierarchy agrees
boss says money supplies all my needs
and I listen

I've been listening all my life
and the message is clear
job, girlfriend and car secured
renting but my space is home
owe 31,000 in student loans
but that degree, I own

fact check anyone with a fatter check
knowledge is an expensive throne

under foot
fertilizer whispers of fallen leaves
     not blackened or auburned
       by sweat or toil

light rests buried under compact soil
     silent and dense
     cold and unstirred
                                       forecasting autumn

waking dreams are ground into dust
and tossed to stoic winds

pillars stand unmoved by clocks
          tradition and duty
          tradition and duty
          tradition and duty
                           swing hands in unceasing circles
do not let your light be fodder

  under foot
fertilizer whispers of fallen leaves
     as stars stare holes into your black

my shadows warn of looming undercurrent
   it is already here
familiar shackles                        ankle-biting
     at old touch points
feet trudge
                      heavy
                              ­    then light
                      heavy
                               ­                       then light

I cut my strings 2 years ago                                (some of them)

                                                      the crown tips

shedding is continuous
heavy
            light
heavy
            light
heavy
­            light
                           I am learning to carry it well
to march
                 — in spite of burdens
                                                       /excess is a burden
                                                       /my burden is light

a forced dance at my feet
  I shuck and jive
   for a reticent forest
leaves applaud                        trees are unamused
                 — they’ve taught me better

                                                   stop running
                                                      plant in it
                                                    breathe it in
                                                              ­                  winter is   here

sadistic numbers
                               the map bleeds
                               a projected suicide

                                                        ­         too close to call

the heads yelp anyway
      decimals spilling out
                                           to fill the gaps

THIS JUST IN
the world is ending
the world is ending
the world is ending

                                   don't stop watching!

at the intersection of
                                 nowhere and nothing
destiny bellows
  its call echoes through chambers
                           and gets caught in a keyhole

how can something so vast as the future
be unlocked by something as minute
                                                as the now

when my dreams dream of me
  it is a reoccurring affair
    two consenting parties
                    connecting in a liminal space
                                                                                      beyond perception

they question
                         where have you been

I offer rehearsed verse

they freestyle a new testament

I pause unsure

they ad lib ****** sounds

I hype them up

they step back and make room

I stumble into imagination                      ~expertly


when my dreams dream of me
it is a reoccurring affair
a song and dance we both get off to
it is only a matter of time
from one meeting to the next
the law of attraction works both ways
                        double-time
and yet
              every time we consummate
they question
                         where have you been
as if I’ve been cheating with mediocrity

the incentive for truth is self-fulfilling prophecy

we have been lied to in circles
and led to believe time is linear
but the end does not justify the means
circles have no end
                                   or beginning

before any axioms are presented
start with why
                           why ask the question that leads to the answer
                           why seek the answer that leads to more questions
the axiom is bliss
now dismantle the argument without lying
          to yourself                                                  to the future
                                       to your neighbor

why ask?                         -knowledge
why seek?                       -wisdom
why teach?                     -clarity for the cycloning circles
this means       before our end
the collective should know
                                     know- who, what, when, where, how
why?                                -for the sake of prophesying
                                           for the sake of manifesting

there is no timeline where stupidity
is a virtue
and we are past axioms
so ignorance is inexcusable

in the Salem Witch Trials
girls as young as 4 were murdered for fear
  of their magic
fear kills more dreams than ignorance or stupidity

the incentive for truth is self-fulfilling prophesy
so how dare we shatter the mirrors
and nail the windows shut

I could see myself clear before
  the distortion of time
warped perspective has taught me
  sight is unreliable

wrinkles and greying hairs
smile lines and dimming irises
  age betrays position

some reflections breed only hate
  but I want to feel pride in growth
in observing tradition
  there are cracks in my face

the mirror in the distance
holds my ancestors' disposition
                                                     ­              is that a grimace or a grin?

before i had
i wanted
before i wanted
i lacked

                                   there is still poverty in achievement
                                   shiny things have pockets of their own
                                   cavities deep with desire
                                   ravenous with dissatisfaction

amnesia finds me searching for what is lost
                    value or sentiment
                         the words           are               the first            thing           to
                                                              ­                                                       slip
each
at some point
    originated from these hands
their texture is unfamiliar now
though it's only been one day

full-on compositions are
released to the void
     luckily clouds hold some vapor

I hope it rains tomorrow

forecasts say it's unlikely I will
ever see you again
your disappearance hasn't even occurred
   (to me)   yet

dust will fall
but will ashes
                          this is a lesson in fighting for

I sighed it all away
  before any instinct to clinch
       or swing
          or break

am I better composed than my poetry
simply because I accept
          without questioning

the formulas are lost
      the charge is lost
            the message is lost
yet I still hope to discover myself

amnesia will remind me tomorrow
of another item vanished
but today I plotted out
a future
and nothing was missing

Love is both muse and music
both poetry and purpose
a symphony of serendipity


The perfect love poem takes just minutes
to imagine
    but a lifetime to create
though words may flood your page
seek the source
love is the strongest force
        it exists beyond language
    is felt before touch
let your sentences be drenched
in intimacy
and punctuated by appreciation

Even when communication is nonverbal
let its essence be affection
     devotion
not only are run ons acceptable here
they are encouraged
marriage is not a life sentence
but an epic of possibilities

Adventure forward knowing that
the future is unknowable
but you are forging it   -   together
ellipses are waiting for you
you create time
   mold it to your will   -   together
trust the process
                              but also
trust each other
     to be auxiliary verbs in
       the act of loving

Seek understanding in your verses
             there is no winner
when existence is the goal
     co-existence
     co-creation
ego aside
be co-stars for the Virgo moon
live in the ease of each other
  even as cycles spiral around you
  even as you spiral around cycles
be the period that stands firm
                                                      for your partner
even under questioning

When line breaks feel like endings
   indent   and   reinvent
you are both forever changing
   so change together
   make edits together
it is a lie that brainstorms are
only the beginning
they will find you
in idle moments
  when the mind wanders
   raining down doubts
though ideas may blot your page
again seek source
  and what started your course

Write to each other
Write for each other

The perfect love poem takes just minutes
to draft
    but if you do it right
it is always under revision
even after you decide to publish

The future is today

Millennials think in centuries
when decades pass in a blink

A year gives 31,536,000 seconds to wait
but not a single minute to waste

Time is money they say
and what millennial
                       doesn’t want to
                                               be a millionaire

submerged under peppermint bubbles
  cortex muddled by damp ears
I reach out and touch a flower
     as it whirlpools around intention

     in this manmade lake
I have made of myself an island
  limbs sinking and reappearing
  my face disappears
  and returns renewed

      this whole time I wasn't breathing
the drain excavates water
   for buoyed relics of responsibility
the weight of life
latches onto my exhale

         release         release         release

I will be whole in this lifetime

I rise with vestiges of beauty
     clinging to my essence
         freedom is assured

they come a penny a dozen
cheap
           copper
                        thoughts
there's a well full                                             ...somewhere...
but no one is thirsty for water anymore
so much Ciroc and Moscato
poppin' bottles and *****
poppin caps and pills
we've subbed out dreams for quick thrills
   eyes open or closed - I'm swimming
but no copper in my goals
I want gold  platinum        DIAMONDS
pay me well and I will sell you my well
full of watered down birthday cake
and wrinkled candles
those flames were blown out with childhood

the moon is the grand architect
feel her pull in high tide
             feel her push when unsure
  on dark nights
  in urban scapes
   surrounded by artificial light

she still shines through
her blueprints are mystery
especially when ideas are new
   she is a slow reveal
     an inspired temptress
                    lean into this
press fingers into her curves

as she undresses
visibility is not always the goal
but when light reflects
it is inevitable

while we question her cycles
she is not afraid of the rebuild
       the versions we hold of each other
       died many moons ago

Get quiet
         No, more quiet than that
Be small town back road
At 3am
Get still
         No, more still than that
Be tree that cuts through breeze
See change centuries away
But stop your trembling leaves
Let sap cry but don’t move to leave
Or brush away the tears
The world is healing
   And breaking at the same time

Get quiet
Enough to hear rifts under seas
Still
Enough to feel the shattering of cycles
The process through is not easy
Urges to relapse yell loudest
When siloed
Misery loves itself
Do you love yourself?



Don’t answer-
     Be quiet enough to hear the answer
Still enough to taste your fears
  And insecurities
Savor them before
Spitting out
Versions of you have                  -                must
Die to make way
Make a friend of grief
Hold its hand
And when you feel ready
     Move forward

he met his mortality with trembling limbs
    and gnashing words
            fiercely independent
    and clutching at every loose strand
nothing was in his control

he cursed life and death
  in the same breath
because opportunity had never proven itself
         to him
and so he asked more of time

     demanded it
to bribe regret away
he lived a life unlived
but this was invisible to him
                                                   until the end

it all lay behind him now
flatlands and an apathetic sky

in the same room as a baby
and a great grandmother
wondering
how to be like both

eager yet slow
curious and wise

eyes don't know how to focus
      or what to focus on
perhaps it's a sign of the times
a signal that I am seeing things anew

what came first:
          the inhale      or      the exhale
is the moment of transition
a peak or a valley

this is the question of birth and death
    of rebirth and culmination
the leaf whispered to the seedling
yet neither remembered first touch
  a mother's womb is its own ecosystem
       a dark moist vacuum

           regalia regalia

she wants to lie down
and stop feeding but everything
relies on her
   even if she is just a link
she must be the strongest one
stand up when others sit
spit conviction while others question
in the endless spinning
she must have her own orbit
she has always held tight to what she needs

needless to say
she has been both twig and tree
and she came first waaaaaaaaaaaaaaay
before any man

the kitchen table is set
     is perpetually set
with glued on utensils and fine China
bowls poured into with empty calories
and                even emptier words
we are accustomed to paper plates
and one off exchanges
        to using things and
          throwing them away

When she first walked through the door
She was a Ghanaian priestess
A titan
Large and mythical and unbelievable
Her eyes held mystery
Deeper than poetry
And her walk
More grace than a royal procession
I can’t believe she looked at me

She sat detached from the lights
The crowd, the noise, the libations
Her presence was louder
I felt every inch of separation
Wanting distance to shrink
Wanting her eyes to question me
I can’t believe I talked to her

Weak prose and memorized verse
Why hadn’t I written something new
Of dreams with answers
Words that could entice her sight
Instead I opened a window
And shared a simple view
I really wanted to bust down a door
Or demolish a wall
Or flatten a building
As sacred space for her feet
I can’t believe I got her number

Insightful reels and pics
Over analytical data
Assumption of interests and realms occupied
I think she rose from the ocean’s depths
To swallow the earth whole
Or rebirth it
All this from 10 minutes
How exactly do light years condense
Into such time
I can’t believe she said yes to a date

Ears swoon at her voice
Tongue delights in sushi rolls
Heart pounds at something
I am unable to admit
I wish for more time to sip her tea
To savor her umami
I go in for the hug and omit my lust
I can’t believe I didn’t go for the kiss
I can’t believe I didn’t go for the kiss
I can’t believe she said yes to a second date

In a foreign house
with more comfort than my own
Fung shei challenging chaotic thoughts
Chaotic thoughts racing through her unknowns
A touch to feed her laugh
A look to feed my longing
My lips to her lips
In a time outside of time
When chaos and order dance together
I can’t believe I’m falling
I can’t believe I’m falling
I can’t believe I’m falling
But my stomach knows this feeling
And my heart knows this pace

I can’t believe I found her
In another lifetime
She can’t believe I ever left

the classroom has no doors or windows
  no walls or boards

in the 13th grade there was an unboxing
to unlearn
tossed the rubric and curriculum aside
to make way for words unwritten
     have you ever found clarity in the unknown
     discovered validation in the void
darkness has taught me insight
way better than any book or person
amidst trembling and shaking limbs
there was a steady hand
guiding
    with more wrinkles than time
         winding
  with more curves than straight lines

I have talked to my ancestors
listened to the texture of wisdom
through their frequency
528 Hz   -   that's love
      outside of checked boxes
      and conditionals
if you surrender to feeling fully
then you will know   -   that's love
and the heart can hold
just as much memory as the brain
  if you're open to receiving

body,   every body
will tell you of the risk
of running toward freedom
spirit,   every spirit
will tell you of the reward
of not staying stuck
   a universal student
I have a couple answers now
           but still no definitive statements
I am in the timeline I'm creating
and yet
             I am so much more than a point
the finite is a container for the infinite

this classroom has no walls or windows
no doors or boards
this teacher                no face

the buddha is in everything
    and that's love

Logic tries to guide me
I slip on fallacies
                                                                                   Intuition releases me
                                                                                   I float unsure

this is all I can do to stop the words
the anticipation of something great
      or disappointing
I hope the former

my stomach is a pit
that deepens with each  l  o  o  s  e  breath
diaphragm creates space for love
and pain
unsure of which will last longer

I cannot see your face
but I can picture your desire
it is mirrored in my eyes
clears a home in my mouth
though unspoken

I want to part your lips and slip you a secret
   I want you more than my form can hold

can we melt together
is this too much to ask for the first time
if so              I can stop the words
   (their expression, at least
not their existence)

to save a thread
            or cut it out
     or
           let
                  it
                       dwindle
the     natural      route

On the other side of fear is greatness
on the other side of greatness is [___]



the thing about lines is they never end
always polarizing into two sides
that gain assurance in contrast
                 who are you without comparison

this life is geometry
characterized by curves and endings
by spontaneous turns
   that neglect signs
signal right
                      and
                               turn left

when the crash comes
there's a thin line between life and death
             (that's how the unconscious paints it)
but thin lines are the easiest
  to blend             blur
         sometimes even erase

I died last night in a dream
and awoke to a nightmare
  it was a thin line I didn't want to cross
but intersections aren't always marked
and crossing isn't always a choice

I X'ed out my ex and now
I'm not sure who I am
   or why I ex-ist

sometimes an intersection is
a new origin
   and axes rotate naturally
       to create novel planes
a transmigration of the soul

on the other side of reality is reality
          question this
make curiosity of this point
  but don't stand on it
the intervals of change may shift
but change is the word
     the rule
     the ruler by which measurement comes
mark my words
on the other side of fear is greatness
and on the other side of greatness is    t h e   u  n  k  n  o  w  n

keep changing
something always looks like nothing from far away

we haven't sat
          and watched clouds
                    drift
    in years



stillness



as simple things take shape
then dissipate
rain on the horizon
gray mist descending
   from silver thoughts
the sun takes cover
behind a puffy blanket
for a needed nap

close eyes and release

can creativity be measured
and who determines the standard
what of verses not seismic
enough to register
acrylic or oil
what magnitude does your canvas claim
before completion

enough blending and everything
becomes a mystery
I wonder how irrational gold is
when reduced to its primal essence
led through onyx and quartz
turquoise and amethyst
if you hold a rock to your head
does it speak in earth tongue

sine and cosine graphs
depict fluctuating vibration
but what of absolutes
in this consensual reality
mugwort produces flow
myrrh yields healing
sage is the end to a means
but only if added and divided correctly

            cast        cast        cast

     spell        spell        spell

all the signs are here:
math is flat without magic
magic is elusive without math
still-
   not everything can be quantified
a digit holds no weight
detached from the hand
and so it is with mind and spirit

at the core of the universe
is an inexhaustible energy
its change is a currency everywhere
learn to count worth without
value or numbers
learn to create art without
pupil or ear
measurement exists on an alternate plane

election to snooze
noon will mock extra slumber
morning routine start

the inner sanctum is a tea shop
surrounded by rainbow rivers
dewdrop magenta
meets turquoise in a whirlpool
and there in that triangle
salmon stop swimming
how long can you stay current
before a rapid takes you

the pour rains from on high
slow and sloppy
the whole world is a mess
  if we tell it
       the raven squawks
       but no one listens
       the kettle calls the *** black
       but there is no witness

as a golden pyramid splits in half
what new shape is this
when the spirit bows to flesh
and the mind spirals out of control
   there are countless leaks
   in the crack(ed) ***
cumulus streaks evaporate out
as a dragon
-wooden and rustic
emerges from the mist

flying sage
forefather of mystic
the words have steeped too long
settled into a bland blend
     when you pour out
     can you taste the difference

the ever-distracting daydream is a form of presence
   says the window
my hand unconsciously crafts doodles
before averting back to words



if I were a poem
I would be everything
  in between the letters
unseen and often misunderstood
to feel me
    you would need to let go
of meaning
           float off paper
     beyond lines
through open airwaves
   don't try to read me
   I need to be heard

if I were a poem
            [wait what]

if I were a poem
            [yo, did you hear that]

if I were a poem
my stanzas would be disjointed puzzle pieces
horcruxes spread to different verses
each with a fractal of spirit
  but never the whole
put me together at the end
for the big picture
    I wouldn't make sense along the way
I would hold magic in my brokeness
enough power in my message to build
  ...and destroy
      ...and rebuild again

there would be so many gaps
you would wonder where the years went
  come and go as they please
I would only speak when silence requested
my composition would paint
           Surreal Renaissance Futurism
                     yea... make that make sense...

if I were a poem
I would allude to imaginary numbers
and friends
fictitious characters and places
just outside that window pane
            like [c'mon you saw that]

side-quest-obsessed
catch me on a tangent
lost in a daze
   days     hours     minutes     seconds
catch me relative
just like the hands of time

if I were a poem
I would require second chances
  over and over and over again
but I'd be worth it
  be worth the suspended disbelief
just for the amusement of it all

if I were a poem...

g@#dgvxdbyhix&*u@ggcuybbdjhgus$%

Peace.                 Peace- short lived
Boredom.                Boredom- soon come


A hum.     A chirp.     A shattering of glass.
Questions. Questions. More questions.
Rampant questions. Barraging questions.
Stillness       stirs muddy
Strained mixing of unknown content
Syrupy. Thick. Sticky and difficult to wade through.
Questions.     Answer. More questions.
Distressed confusion.


Silence- uncomfortable.
Stillness- uncomfortable.
A thrashing of drums. A clashing of symbols.     A chirp.
Noise for noise’s sake.

Say something! It’s too quiet in here
Talk to me. Talk at me. Say something
A conversation about everything.
A conversation about nothing.
A chirp.




A chirp.



Aren’t you glad I didn’t just stand here in silence for a minute?

An archeology of silence.
Peace.                 Peace- short lived
Boredom.                Boredom- soon come

Who
          wh          wh          who
     What
          When
Where
          wh          wh          where­
     Why
          How

if life was a sentence it would end in a question mark
no judge setting bail
just animals caged in the medulla
stuck in query
                    asking
WHO am I
     WHAT is my purpose
          ...WHEN is my deadline...
                  WHERE am I going
                         WHY am I asking all these questions
and HOW, HOW the **** do I do this right