we are built of loss
we are crafted in the absence
of our loved ones

a song my downstairs neighbors wrote
about the man who died in my apartment
makes me feel safe and whole, somehow
the opposite of haunted
his name was Reggie, same as my cousin
who I don't see anymore

their lilting sounds of piano and *****
banjo and guitar
their sweet synced singing
reminding me that I'm alive
and so lucky to share walls with magic

so lucky to share walls with a happy little dog
that I adopted when my friend died

I listen to their music while at work, far away from
that little dog

and even farther from my friend
who is all ash and soul now

my dog knows the singing
and Reggie
and remembering

same as me, I can tell by her big brown eyes

my girl had a man when I met her
I had a man some time ago, too

back when I was a girl
before I chopped off all my hair and decided I no longer wanted to be perceived

because it's only trouble, you know.


not that you're safe just because no one notices you

honestly we're never safe from the men who paw at us and who jack their little d*cks off to thousands of videos of women getting choked

the ones who try to make you think you should be grateful
for the scrapings at the bottom of a bottomless barrel
and the ****t stuck on your shoe
when they're the ones
crapping
on the floor

anyway, I don't date men anymore

and my girl had a man when I met her
but she doesn't anymore

she is never mad again
because they are never mad in California
                   only sad.

and sunburned.
                            they live their lives in jovial ignorance of SPF.
everyone there is special but no one can see it.
some write poetry on typewriters, others pretend their band is any good.
and some jump from rooftops into pools while drunk on love
they don't cry when they see the sun set
in a particularly punishing beauty.

the sun just sets like that
nothing new, babe.

I made you a cup of tea
put honey in it

it's still just sitting there

probably because we broke up

what do I do now?
with the tea, I mean

I stand alone, amidst the green meadow,
Grass embraces softly in its glow.
On the left, a cozy home,
where warmth and peace freely roam.

Blue sky,
shaping clouds with grace,
birds dancing in wind,
a lively chase.

Eyes closed,
the sun kisses my soul,
Eyes open,
I leave that heaven whole.

I write, unseen by all,
to know my truth,
I find myself in every word I choose.

This poem was mused by:
"Shakespeare won't look at me" by ThomasW.Case
-----------------------------------  -------------­-------------------

We fill our lives with work and stress
in the lust for new possessions
we're taught that this is called success
and it makes for good impressions

But pleasures we’re taught to suppress
so our souls will fly up to the heavens
but this flesh that god has gifted us
are our only true possessions

If we find ourselves casually undressed
which is frankly, our natural condition
and if ****** needs should be addressed
there’s no need for ****** confessions

for pleasure is something to be expressed
if we’re alone or in a marvelous coalition
So I wish you satisfaction in elations quest
as you work the knobs, slants and levers
because this isn’t some kind of competition

P.S. Will Shakespeare was familiar with *******'s guilty thrills.
"The expense of spirit, in a waste of shame is lust in action"
.
.
A song for this:
Flowers by Miley Cyrus