Friday, October 3, 2014

attempt at poetry

sometimes i am so bad
at being a person because
1. excuse
2. excuse
3. excuse
4. excuse
5. excuse
6. excuse
7. excuse
8. excuse
9. excuse
10.oh  my god
why are they so loud
out my window:
- who’s not having any fun?
you can’t beat it.
- well what time is it.
well are we cool?
- well, we’ll go through my toolshed
and see if we have any other things. 

Saturday, June 28, 2014

soon we will move far away

that winter day we sat
in the back bedroom
with the windows open
and the snow outside
and talking about
your mother.

some thousand miles past
I see someone
with her haircut
and feel the anger
sharp in my lungs
like burning.

I catch myself,
because it is June
and you are not here
to remind me
the future is forward
not back.

I've left before
but never this far.

that day we talked so deep
I remember
we forgot
we'd put on tea.
with the water gone
and the coils hot
the kettle stuck.

we took it hard.
we couldn't force it off.
we pulled but
it wouldn't

it almost felt
like giving up
to forgive

but later,
in the kitchen,
you lifted
the teapot
without trying.

this was just the beginning.

Monday, May 12, 2014

write this

I'm alive.
She had forgotten.
Remembering was like pulling
from seed to bloom
in time-lapse photography,
suddenly everything made sense.

write this:
we are a part
of everything.
you are, too.

Thursday, April 3, 2014

the receptionist

the only life left here is planted,
and this includes me.
sunk behind a desk
that was once a tree
(or maybe many)
before retiring
to this office space
where the lilies and I learned
the halt of life
in roots upon ceramic
or supposed-to silence
at flirts in suits.

sometimes I still shrink
at the reality of it.

I'm not nearly enough
as lilies.
they're still growing,
the roots overlapping,
even tangling
around themselves:

just growing,
until they can't
breathe another breath
that no one
could keep them
from breathing.

Tuesday, March 11, 2014

nothing is subtracted

I have carried the loss
because where else
could I put it?

is that someplace
like heaven
that cannot
be mapped?

I am not a dolphin
carrying a mummified
baby body
what do I have
to let go

must losing
make us less

or can loss be
like the sea
turning rock
to beach?

Thursday, February 27, 2014

for winters

how many
have seen the sunrise
on the clock
and tried
not to look
so long
they learned

and how many more
have met the morning
with eyes upturned
regular as work

if struggle molds
like hands to clay
imagine us all
without it

this thought
has kept me
for winters

Monday, February 10, 2014


where I'm from we'd cure feelings
if we could
but settle
with perfecting the lawn

when we met you looked at me
like really looked 
like you could see 
the inexplicable nature 
of my being,
and smiled
and I thought,
for want
I've worked the field 
from my yard

I forgot wildflowers
grow all on their own