robot man grabs my hand
tells me not to worry.
here’s a new sky, new water,
screens on every baby.
no worries, no worries,
robot man is here.
you are not required.
poetry: artificial sky
poetry: wild stems
fading starflower
draped in cobwebs
show me gradation
slinking magic
how weathering feels
like gentle warfare
pulling jasmine
sinew and string
pliable by stone
over running light
arching wind
fetch me transition
falling toward sun
wild stems
bound to follow
poetry: pink clouds called you home
you promised me sky never
falls, only shifts, so i follow
threads looking for you. real
boy, real. real. you promised
me ocean waves never cease,
so i search foam for fingers,
fog for faces, where did you
go if not into the pink, where
one day i’ll roll over and find
you laughing and calling my
name, real boy. real. real.
poetry: harvest
stir me with wind
gathering like storms
setting water droplets
upon air, like breath.
call me beetle bright
oil slick remembered
momentarily still.
i’m nothing words
and all the words
and you’re still here.
gather me in a basket
to set upon a table
and i’ll sing for you.
poetry: me, today
i’m a shadow witch
pinned to pavement
perpetually sweeping
where others freely walk.
made of uneven gravel,
i hide twisting stone
roots, withering debris,
and buried love. i’m afraid
of forgetting your sky,
nestled clouds, how eyes
shine through fog. i’m
a nervous dog barking
behind a fence, a coyote
chasing grassy shadows.
i’m a worm wiggling
toward fresh rain
hoping i’ll be
understood.
*80/100: For the next 100 days, I’ll be writing and posting a poem every day. All photos are mine.
poetry: lalique
cobalt time capsule
french darling of mine
bring me grandmother’s youth
her dab behind the ear
fresh moonlight caught
a lover in a felt hat
call me darling, dove
baby, oh baby
books tucked into leather
heels on wet cobblestones
descending into dark blue
bottle me the sweetness
of starting over again
poetry: in defense of joy
sun alive crawls
across my ceiling
waking these hands
to scrub the bathroom,
fold the laundry,
type letters.
poetry: ride again
poetry: tomorrow
shift you rock, the house plants
are begging for water. television
folds fingers. sugar teeth bite
flesh as golden lions dance
across carpet. oh, look there–
a lizard marks time, tiny
rhythmic bows against dirty
window pane. heavy blanket
expands, squeezing harder.
tomorrow, you whisper. rivers
drown narrow view, guiding
you back to flickering screen.
poetry: three
new fuzzy socks for us three,
ordered and delivered within
one day. the cheap kind
leaving fuzz trails through
the house. let’s drink some
water, drape soft blankets
over our legs. we don’t say
worry or the c word, too early
to tell. maybe this time next
week we will know, hold
hands, facing it all, including
all these damn fuzz balls
from these cheap socks.