A MASON JAR FULL OF STONES

the point of a poem
is the explanation
(the clearer picture)
through the fog.
and now I’m lost for words – I’m sinking
spinning
falling
shaking.
falling further

THE COFFEE IS JUST WATER DRESSED IN BROWN

MRS. PARNABY’S MATH CLASS

THE FIRST POEM NOT ABOUT HER

all the punks come out in summer
blinking, the shadows in there eyes – dissipate
they walk on burning concrete
dragging their heels
breathing sweet air;
finally
they take the long way home
out of spite
for winter
because they’re rebellious like that.
its beautiful
when they come alive

SELF PORTRAIT

I HOPE SHE TREATS YOU WELL

Lukah was brave
she dazzled, even me,
enough to believe in the innocent intentions
and those girls, the night she wore that red sweater
i watched her spin through blue in mid-transformation
and spit sweet smoke on the concrete
as she designed blueprints
for how to be human, here
she’d been chasing Khyber all along
who falls so hard so fast so strong
and sees [...]

BROKEN WRIST BROKEN BEER BOTTLE

is it so wrong?
i think she’s beautiful when she cries
liquid seeping through her eyes,
from glass
to eyelash starfish
and it scares me;
to feel nothing;
when i know i’m about to run;
but i’m so uncontrollably distracted
by her face
in the unforgiving bathroom light.

HUNDREDS OF MILES YA YOU CRY LIKE A BABY

HOW IN THE HELL’D WE GET HERE

JACQUELINE

^  CLICK ME FOR ART

BEAUTIFUL BEAUTIFUL BEAUTIFUL BEAUTIFUL BOYYYY

 
“Life is just what happens to you,
While your busy making other plans,
Beautiful,
Beautiful, beautiful,
Beautiful Boy,
Darling,
Darling,
Darling Sean. “

LEFTOVERS

MONTANA

ANDROGYNY