sap.

i'd turn the streets into trampolines
and bring the ocean to your knees
catch fireflies in broken glass jars
you are free
whenever you please
fly to me
and bring the sea
if you please
fill in the blanks
a wink, your name carved in my tree
stacks of books, you can wear my broken glasses
i'd read to you sweet, with the ocean at our knees
a hundred birds on telephone wires
is best i know how to say, you make me feel
and maybe a windy day with the windows down.

three seconds before sleep.

wait, they're falling
a slow fade, burning
up, down
drifting
in, out
what's that sound?
thunder, rumble
distant trains
a whistle, the wind
and in my ear, a buzzing
calling
singing
close them, gentle
blackest black
it's over now
lie still
wait, the fade
the day, the end

" i just don't think i'll ever get over you."

heart beats
salt and memory
missing
the shape of you
never gone
dead petals
broken me
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
still.

exclamation points.

It’s ringing, It’s humming.
You disappoint.
Of course.
I’m making mistakes,
And tripping on them,
Over and over,
And over and over.
I’ll bend like this,
If you say it’s ok.
Screaming silently,
It’s not ok!
It’s not ok!
These strings attached,
I made them for you.
Make me move.
Fall down,
And down and down.
My catastrophe heart,
It’s ringing, it’s humming.

careful, honey, lies are heavy.

There are bees on your lips.
Knives in your back.
Fall flat.
Kissing strangers
A liars’ handshake
Never say always
Never say right.
Mountains on your shoulders
Bent knees won’t make the mile
You’re a crack in the sky
A dead leaf forest
Never lie down.
Never shut both eyes.
There are bees on your lips
Poison in that tongue.
Take a bow.
Blow us a kiss.

cold conversations.

winter hands, hollow me out
empty dry, a release, i need
these city buildings are tragic
tall like forest trees
and swallowing me bit by bit
an innocent bird growing bitter
lost in all the dead leaves falling
burying any living soul below
second hand smoke reruns and
brand new piles of fear each morning
mystery bruises, lonesome nights
winter cold, fall asleep inside my bones
break apart, awakening, i ache
identical shadows, flashes, smiles
backwards feet, never ending pavement
winter breeze, tell me a story
forgive, forget, follow through
drowning underneath your frozen touch
eyelids shut, lips parted, i breathe in.

streetlights welcome me home.

There’s this streetlight in front of my house that flickers on, dimly, then off, out completely.
Every night it talks to me through my window, sending messages with its streetlight code.
It says as long as its heart still beats, I should stay put, keep my things on this very spot
But as soon as the light inside burns out, its final spark will tell me it’s time to move on.


So, I wait.