Another day with no poetry in my exhale,and if I knew what was good for me,I’d have gone out and found some,I’d have gone home and taken deep inhalesof cardamon and kitchen and bake. Another day with no poetry in my inhale,and if I knew what was good for me,I’d have taken a moment to breathe out,I’d have taken a moment to go out,and kiss … Continue reading if i knew
Here lies a poemI wrote only for me.May it blessin peace. Continue reading substitute day 25
The reality is I’d look like browned lettuce,wilted and inexplicably sweaty.My jaw would be locked from the exertionof fighting off everything I could not saythrough a day too close to strangers,under a sun that was not my own.I bloat when I’m away from home,and nothing fits, and I’ve never gone on a tripwithout having to shop for a new outfit.The reality is, I’d have nothing … Continue reading some people just don’t rhyme right
I am not sure I will ever feel certain again, but today I feel something close, and I want to cozy my face deep into the armpits of that warmth, press my jewelried feet against it. My skeleton is a tuning fork that vibrates until my heart is in my throat, and today I find out the acoustics of my body still hold perfect pitch, … Continue reading earth day 2018
I can’t help but love love, and anything else that brings me close to the first breath of space. An artist on the internet makes an elephant smaller than a teardrop and it may be the heaviest an almost-atom has ever been, and I cannot own it because even my spare change must be spent surviving the atoms that try to crush me, so that … Continue reading spare change
Pull a shoulderthrough your phonefor your tearsto borrow.Be embarrassed,but feel better. Feel better. Steal gasps of airand replace themwith even bigger gaspsof used air.The key is you must givemore than you’ve taken.Quiet the panic.Feel better. Ruin your make up.Twice. Forget your name.Forget to eat. Eat a scoop of peanut butterand feel better. Retweet a strangerand borrow more problems. Reply to a DMand borrow more problems. … Continue reading how to have my day
The risk of poetryis the afterlifeof a feelingnot meant tooutlive sunriseor flesh. TodayI keep the fleetingmortal. Continue reading mortal
In the alleyway the children play,and today play means screaming,means catch me if you can. Time time time, they say,between the shouts,so loudI almost stop doing taxesbecause fair is fair,and someone called time. I remember the game.I remember the rules. I do not remember how it wasto shriek my laughterthrough my neighborhoodlike the boss of space and time. Continue reading saturday
rarasaur 