I’m laughing with you.
We sit at my piano
Video media records,
and I have the pleasure of watching us toss our heads back
Breaking neck smiles.
Play back our giggles
Mismatched notes
We don’t search our own accord,
Clash of chords
corded around each key.
Sitting on that bench is wearing socks of different pairs.


I am a fuzzy mid-calf, and you are an argyle knee high.
Socked in laughter.

I am humbled by the rain
The way it mingles and manages
With every tree
And pocket between leaves.

I am honored
To be collected and covered
With each available drop
As I make my way outside.

I am humbled.
I am honored.

I am wet.

she
he
you
me
they
them

who am i?

Questions
I
Ask
Myself
When
I’m
Unsure

Who I am.

Binary
Binds
Me.
I
Am  
Bound
To
be
Girl.

I am not.

You came to me in what I thought was a dream,
but it was actually the mundane,
and the secrets my conscious brain,
was keeping from me.

You were a part of reality all along,
it's just taken me a bit to realize it.
Sunlight can be blinding,
and raindrops are more obvious.

I think harmony is one of those things,
that can only be determined from an internal blueprint.
Concepts emerge,
and this reasoning is extracted,
from beautiful objects and ideas.
Simply,
an idea formed,
and              framed
by                        a
grouping           of
other                ideas.

I love the way rain looks when it melts the pavement into glass.
All the trees and lights cast back the tangled road.
Looking out the window during a storm
and bringing your eyes from the street
to the window,
all the water droplets move along to their own rhythm like land *****, ending up a puddle in a stage of full maturity.