ugh.

yes, you read right.

ugh.

i don’t know if
ugh
is a poetic thing
to say.
but i don’t care.

i’ll say it
a thousand times
again.

ugh.

these three letters
that stand for
human frustration.
imperfection.
faults
flaws.

these three letters
that symbolize
a journey that will end
in a triumphant

yay.

it is a house of refuge
a place where you can
run away.
a shelter against
the cold winds of life.
a yellow umbrella
for when it rains.
like the flower fields
during spring,  
a little niche
in an overwhelming world.
a secure spot
where your heart
can be at peace.
it is where
your brokenness shatters.
but also where it is pieced
back together
in the form
of simple words.
it is a blank page
and a pen in hand
and the fervent hope
that your prayers
will be heard.

there are words
hidden in trees
and growing in flowers.
there are words
between people's lips
and in songs being carried
by the summer breeze.
there are words
on our fingertips
and lingering in our ears.
there are words
left unspoken
and there are some
that were spoken
all too quickly.
there are words
in our body  
and in everything
that is alive.
because life is
a combination of words
and we're just trying
to make them rhyme.

The springs offer no explanation that cannot be heeded.
My feet meet the water, which absorbs those sins that have calloused my soles.

The sight of you across the bank, under the cedar
Chills me with a sharp current.
I will never know why the cold water
Surrenders me softly to the Earth,
But grips me at the heart
When you appeared below the trees among
Their fallen leaves.

There are salamanders that live in the creek,
But they are so small, and exist so profoundly in the water
That only the people who have used their lives searching-
To protect them-
Have ever seen these blind animals.

You have never noticed me at the river,
But the river knows that I'm here
To guard the stretch of Earth that keeps us at our ends.

dragonflies melt
into each other.
flowers meld
shaded silver
upon silver.
string whips of
cotton float by like jacks
thrown by children,
unsusceptible to
the force of gravity.

the mechanics of
heart machines
crank awake.

steel knees bend dull and
swollen.

venetian mask with
sterling tongue
skims the tops
of tiny toes
and errantly spring-ed
grasshoppers..

warm bodies
in bubbling steel
meadow—
cool in nature,
stolen like
gold
crafted and
crafted again
in heat.