the reluctance
to be

you don’t fit
in this place

no one will
understand you

but you will
understand them

in ways they
don’t understand

themselves

this may not
go so well

so keep your
mouth shut

and write poetry

today

we do not know
the future

we do know

it will be different
than the past

ice is melting
glass is shattering

the pain of
the planet

matches

the pain of
the people

none of us
are perfect

but we need
to learn how

to heal if
we want to

live as

the people
on this planet

an admonition
to a child

we learn
so much

from each
other

to be shy
and never

try to
be more

than our
place

we were
placed

before we
knew

our place
and now

we know
our place

so we
don’t

try

I have to
believe

the work
is somehow

separate

from the
one who

created it
there are

so many
things in

art
science
politics
philosophy
psychology
etc.

that I love
and I don’t

love or
even really
know the

people who
created it

and I know
I am not

perfect I
would hate

if you had
to love me

to love
my work

as a child
I did

I would
jump

everything

we had
nothing

I could go
nowhere

so I would
jump

everything
and

imagine I
was going

somewhere

the drum holds
everything in place

the room
is dark

at least the
room in my

head

you don’t ask
them to enter

they don’t care

they force their
way in

and take up
residence

for as long as
they choose

and when they
finally leave

they leave
something

behind

the drum holding
everything

in place

a flower
in a garden

summer
blooms

nothing
has ever

been this
soft

and fragrant
the bee

that feeds
off her

is happy
to be alive

for its
short life

feeling
fulfilled

is the secret
it opens all

the gates
not in a

way that
shows

obedience

in a way
that shows

hunger

to become
better

you are not
chained

to the answer

you are free
to disagree

and do as
you please

but asking
shows you

are open
and wanting

to grow

the appearance
of thorns

my skin wanted
to feel

anything

feet and hands
tender places

I wanted to
feel entered

exposed

I wanted to
live to be alive

blood speaks
like a river

flooding its
banks

destroying
without intent

trying to get
rid of all

its excess

so it can
feel again

after much effort

I become a sentence
perfectly formed

everything in its place
I am the creator

of sensemaking
I do not want

to be copied
or pasted

I do not want
to be shared

or followed

I want to be memorized
and repeated

as a prayer

I want to be carved
and live in marble

like so many of
my ancestors

we live in the shades.  the differences.  between light.  and dark.  
the edges.  where people.  get cut.  when they move.  against the grain.

we bleed.  the same.  but we don’t.  admit it.  
until we bleed.  together.

then we become.  blood.
brothers and sisters.

and live together.

angles are for
liars and geometry

if he is not
teaching you

about shapes
and the

arrangement
of parts

don’t trust him

when the fairy
tale ends

I follow her
into the woods

she was happy
as the moment

called for but
I knew she was

more than a role
and while this

ending could
be happy

I knew this
was not

the end

I knew she
had more

to say

so I followed
her into

the woods

your ball point
pen is a knife

black the color
of my blood

so sharp I
don’t feel

you enter me
and take from

me so many
pieces I

am missing
but I don’t

notice they
are missing

until I see
them over there

in your creation
and realize

you are my
autobiographer

the shadows
tried to hide

and mostly
they did

but we could

feel them
for months

lingering in
the words

we said to
each other

the space
in the room

grew with
the quiet

and we always
said we wanted

more space
in our rooms

and we lived
together until

the last day
of forever

means something
to us now living

in our isolation
to me as a child

it was lessons
taught to me

from a
child’s show

on TV

some followed
the street or

the electric
company

but me I
always wanted to

zooma zooma
zooma… zoom

below a genus

we share something

at some level

we are the same

and at some level

we are different

we can choose

what we see

but we can’t change

that at some level

we are the same

the meaning
of a girl

to be all
she can be

in this world
and any other

when the moon

covers the sun
we call it

an eclipse
when she rises

to her peak
she doesn’t cover

anyone

life is not
really a

competition
everyone can

shine that is
the point of

being different

the single
soldier

I position
next to

his peers
I move them

about trying
to find the

perfect
formation

for this
attack

the enemy
is confusion

victory is
meaning

about those
things that

matter most

the gift of
the internet

the curse of
pollution

there are
more stars

on the earth
than in the

sky

nothing carried
forward we

have no memory

at the beginning
we are beginners

everything is
strange and new

we have no names

for anything
or anyone

we can run
and hide and

wait for others
or we can

venture out
on our own

and be the
first to die

or to discover

is not just
revealing

everything
at once

to everyone

everything
has a time

and a place

when it
matters

when it
can do

the most good

if it is easy
it isn’t

honest

if I could hear
every sound

I would pick up
your whispers

and your sighs
and hold them

like beautiful
flowers ignoring

everything else
in nature

knowing nothing
else is beautiful

to me

they say you
are neutral

can that be true

do you truly have
no point of view

do your people
lack thoughts

do your people
lack feelings

have you cured
humanity of

all their silly sins
of all their

conflicting desires
can you have

without holding
can you give

without wanting
can you speak

without telling
can you hear

without judging

are you really
as neutral

as they say

a life lived
high

above
our
individual
pains

we were
together
forever
forgetting

days and
nights

months and
years

and when
we hit

the rock at
the bottom

we landed
in a desert

and you cried
for the

first time
creating

our oasis
or was it

a mirage

neck stretched
to see

elongated
is one of
my favorite
words

curves hold
your tilted

head

are you
thinking

about
someone

or something

I hope it is
something

or me

the sounds
you make

when you
fall from

the sky

when you
land on

the earth

you are
the scream

in my soul
the ache in

my brain
the kick

in my groin

I am
speechless
wordless

pure
primitive
without

pretense

you spit
half-wit

the earth
doesn’t

need you
to wet it

it has its
ways to

clean
itself

we don’t
need your

mess

so swallow
yourself

your germs
are not

welcome here

you tip-toe
through this

world

living on
an arched

soul

bent not
broken

you want
the world

to hear you
but you are

scared your
speech will

quake the
earth

and nothing
will ever

be the same

she has her
way with words

she is honest

she must be
connected

to herself
feeling through

the layers we
build around

ourselves
to the core

of what it
means to be

her

it takes time
to choose

what

it takes time
to understand

why

it takes time
to learn

how

she has devoted
her time

wisely

past tense

muscle has
memory

it remembers
you

all over

the heat from
the moments

that meant
more

the anticipation
of forever

and I wonder

does rain
feel pain

when it ends

smoke and
flames

opening
pockets
in the
earth

that never
end

anything to
distract you

from
seeing
me

from
reaching
inside me

pulling
out
my
soul

reading
my
diary

I was nevermore
living in less than

I could not feel
in the dark

the walls were
made of smoke

you did not
build me up

the way others
did for their

sons

I never had
that secret image

of myself

that made me
believe I could

be better than
the cards I

was dealt the
sad secret is

I never learned
to count

there is no
perfection

there is
trying and

learning
changing

to adapt
to truth

the reality
we all face

if we are
honest

with
ourselves

she died
that night

suffocated
by pain

a body
against
itself

cells
contaminated

by an
intruder

no one
let in

but it
had a key

that no one
gave it

and that
remains

the mystery
no one has

solved

in the earth
it was buried

not forgotten
not forgiving

it fell deep
becoming

part of the
core

heating
itself

in rage
it could

not be
satiated

searching
for cracks

looking for
an escape

it found
not one

but so many

that it could
not explode

it had to seep
to reach the

surface and
then spread

either way it
will make

its point

can I ask you
a favor

if I lie on the
table in front

of you
will you

use a thin blade
make a small

incision in
my chest

remove the part
of me that needs

dissect my soul
until you

reach the seed

so you can
understand why

I live and
explain it

to me

I was not home
when you called

used to be enough
it gave us space

we could be apart
and survive on our

own
now

everyone has to
be connected

all the time
I feel wired
         weird

like

I’m part of
a machine

I’m always
close enough

to everyone so
they can touch me

but sometimes
I don’t want to

be reached

her words
rained on me

I was drenched

her words
reigned over me

I was obedient

I could not think
without using

her words
her mind

pre-dated
everything

I knew to
be true

love is a
weak word

to say to her

she teased
the sun

made it hide
behind the

clouds but

the clouds
became

brighter
by being

close to her

we are not
at our best

we tried to
bury pain

paint over
the layers

knowing
there was

rot in our
foundation

hoping we
would not

have to face
the collapse

that’s for
the next

family to
deal with

but eventually
there is no

next family
and we have

to face
the fact

we are it

the rage.  the spark.  the flame.

you set me on fire.

and waited.

as I turned to ash.

I am not phoenix.

I will not rise.

you had one chance.

and you blew it.

there were
these creatures

in the woods
they would crawl

into my hands
I named them

and made them
a family

hoping they would
stay together

but whenever I
released them

they would scatter
I guess that’s just

the way things are

like pieces of
broken glass

minds are
sharp

they cut your
insides

and shred
your skin

you bleed and
you cry

shedding
liquid

staining
material

things

meaning is
a solid and

a liquid

when I
spent too

much time
alone

with my
thoughts

they called
it suicide

speak a treatise
on belonging

I thought
existence

into

the being
part of

human

birth is a
pressure

to escape
stillness

and peace
and every

day after
just continues

that path
a pattern

the longing
to return

at war with

the need
to move on

I remember
a boy who

could not swim
in water

so he would
escape into

a lake of ferns
he would crawl

silently and
imagine

becoming part
of the earth

he would lie
still for hours

no one could

see him in
the green

waves created
by the wind

they would
walk right

by him as if
he was just

another fern

after I
open them

I give them
space

because like
fine wine

I want
my words

to breathe
before you

drink them
I want you

to taste
their fullness

their delicacy
their sweet

bitter notes
that will

stay with you
and become

part of you

time & space
are teachers

if we let them be

we need to see
each other

existing

in time & space
and know

we are constrained
we are flawed

we need to learn
to be better and

we really do
need to forgive

each other

the secret
life of bees

buzzing in
your ear

everything you
want to hear

sweet nectar
on my tongue

your favorite
love songs

I memorize
and spread

to everyone
I meet like

my sting

it is the pain
of pleasure

nothing lasts
forever

there is rain
in my brain

a thunderstorm
of words

freaking
fracking
crackling
cracking

starting
fires

I cannot
extinguish

asking
questions
giving
answers

in the same
sentence

who is you
and am I real

and what
in the world

is the big deal