April Madness 2018

As I walk down the street on my way to school
I like the snap of my flat-soled shoes
that will wreck my feet with time.
I listen to cars' engines whine.
I'm wearing a leather jacket; hear it squeak
as it rubs against itself with every snap of my feet.
I feel killer, bomber, all edges, like lightning.
I walk with a gait that sends the world cowering.
My outfit today is so well-matched
that to love me or fear me is quite a catch-
22, but what's it to you? As I breeze
like some famous star down the street.
With my tough-girl looks, it's plain to see:
yesterday I finally did my laundry.

3. Shadow-Play

I was awake so late, my shadow stirred
and sat in office in my graveyard chair;
he went unnoticed or perhaps preferred
while I drifted in the depths of nether-where.

I was a soul in need of much repair
and stumbling over keys I reaffirmed
there was more work than I could ever bare;
I was awake so late, my shadow stirred.

He took my eyes in his, our roles transferred,
I saw and heard the day through filtered air.
He drank plant water, ate the day's crossword
and sat in office in my graveyard chair.

I sat in silence, spooled, my mind elsewhere -
was he here to help, this crocodile bird?
To pluck the parasites from my hardware?
He went unnoticed or perhaps preferred.

He answered every call, each quest confirmed,
the night my shadow overtook my lair,
and goblins danced over work incurred
while I drifted in the depths of nether-where.

You are the frostbite that crawls up
the embedded torsos of trees
attempting to heal after
a barren wintertide.

In late March, I thought you were finally gone
until I found you regressing back into a puddle
on my front steps this morning.

Even on days where I'm laughing and smiling
and I'm moving on, hints of you are left behind--
when the wind howls outside my bedroom window
I hear your voice, and in the blanket of dew, I swear
I see shadows of the puppet strings that cut
the circulation of my limbs once upon a time.

The taste of leaving mellows out
and I am left hollowed out
knowing you can't stay;
knowing your beautiful eyes
will see beautiful skies
and beautiful things underneath.
I am hollow in my knowing
(despite the eerie feeling
that I'm looking in a mirror)
that we are not the same.

You will see mountains and rocky beaches;
you will wrangle twisting children in their car-seats;
you will look through window glass
and maybe see your reflection looking back.
And I will stay, firmly planted.
My eyes will trace the same old sidewalk cracks
to a fixed horizon.
I will stare at the sky and bake
in this desert's summer sun. I will break
apart like dried mud. I will ripen and age.

You will go and roam and change,
and stuck here, I'll stay the same.

water love


i took a breath of the crisp morning air

i was scared of losing myself

let the waves whisper gently over my feet

you coaxed me in

i tried not to hesitate and jumped right in

i was still scared but i jumped in with you

surface tension breaks as i hit the crest of the waves

any tension between us lasted only a single second

shattering the water into a million droplets

we forgot any hesitations

water caresses my slightly battered body

you comforted me always

silence under the waves

you listened to everything and so did I

slowly sinking into darker water

our love grew deeper

how is under the crashing waves this calm?

you looked so different on the surface

all i know is i never want to leave the only calm i've found

but now i know that we are perfect