morning came
like someone spilled a crate
of mangos though my window

that was my first thought this morning

the rest of today i am nearly unable to speak
because everything out of my mouth is
grammaradical somewhat-poetry
and when people ask what’s up
all i can say is that “i am
quivering with emotion”

haha…. okay izzy

when i look at the sky i’m thinking of
like, idk, shattered shotglasses and robin hood
arrows in a sack on my back
to pin down whimsy and hope
quivers full of emotion

i don’t want to talk and that never happens
but i can’t remember what words look like
because i’m too busy tasting them

this part of the world feels too small please
i’m ready to leave or let poets sleep in my bed

haha… okay izzy

A Cerulean precipice grows  
wrinkles. Blouses scatter into oblivion.
Rusty chain, in the room with no time.
Tea-kettles antagonize moonlit lovers.
Shotglasses chase, through ghastly cornstalks.
Cascading lights speak incantation.
Flash dance to late night serenades.
Phoenix plumes in Sunday hats.
Laying poolside, argyle splashes.
A magnetic lioness creeps.
Daring glances spread gossamer lies.
Alabaster halls consume infant minds, while
Dusty caps unlock elusive touches.
Black widows drink white wine.
Anise waters drown lycra mermaids.

Threatened and hurt I felt
if someone ever had to go.
Older and wiser I became
and then I was able to know:
your time is a gift,
it is from you to me.
calandars get fuller everyday
but yours is yours to see.
Forget credit cards and
Jack Daniels in shotglasses,
think about the paid hours we need
and to pass those classes.
We are adults
but our freedom isn’t free.
No matter how long we hung out,
thank you
for spending that time
with me.