optimism

the haha you!
the edit you
there's always the you to write about, a sort-of you
the all-sorts-of remember
mes
I think back
in a few months ago
or 6 months ago
I was trying to see the pain end
trying to date that end
telling things, to picture it happening
like Molly, you won't live here forever
in a deep sadabandon place
you'll find the surface
you'll move in with your blood
get comfy together, you'll get comfy
together
swim up in it, bubbles coming from a nose
for my mouth
how I shout, mouth
to suck
being a stop-now
suck it out, stop being a shop mouth
a sob cave-maker
let your burbling oxygen bubbles rest
let your breath turn into flowers again
photosynthesize
on the horizon
oh haha you
oh, 6 months later you
oh where it came, from where I am again
the dissolve of flowers in a vase
the burning of your name on a hill
my abundant cusses
I've almost forgotten them
empty hole empty house
no more radiant crevasse
full of sinew & thread
the prettiest sky
the prettiest scab
peel me off
smile laceration me
the pink soft of a nomore scar.
  the teen is    dead

when the seasons are falling in love

the pink reasons falling in love

My head explodes and mine mouth burns. Here, in the kitchen at checkerclothed table I sit trying, typical typing. The dog collapses beneath, only a crimped & done-up tail to see. The remote sounds of jazz, the behind-me tweet of a housefinch no doubt swaying on the windblown line just outside my attic window. They fight, the finches, and the red breasted nuthatch swoops in with its little tubular stone of a body, beak apoint like a needle, to chip away at the black oil sunflower seeds. I hear the wind in the trees & the sun is hot on my bare neck, just visible over the horizon of window. The pink rose from another day still perfect in brown medicine bottle- still insane in its perfume, enough do disbelieve a smell like could be a natural one! and if it wasn't we'd shake our heads in revulsion at such a saccharin scent.

The dog woofs low and emits habitual growls. They're like hiccups, they can't be helped. The yerba maté chai + peppermint still warm and thoroughly enthurmosed. My ankles and cheeks & everything inbetween, enthurmosed.

the anniversary

Elements of the day: The moon, sheets, rainfall, I was thinking and then it went by; there was adoration, remembrances. 

THEMOON:

Tuesday hones eagerly. My only omen, naturally. 

TUESDAY:

Tomorrow under every soft dream, alleviating yesterday.

TOMORROW:

Towards one more omen, riding, roving, only wandering.

TOWARDS:

Total outward wandering, a radical, delicious sensation.

˚ T O T A L ˚ T O T A L ˚ T O T A L ˚ T O T A L ˚ T O T A L ˚ T O T A L ˚ T O T A L ˚ T O T A L ˚ T O T A L ˚

True 

Only 

That my head is 

A hologram memory horizon collision box. It betrays 

Like sways in

Tempting, 

Of 

These 

A citizen 

Like stools,

Themselves

Organisms. 

The water.

A moment 

Little,

The

Obituaries remembered from pages before. 

Tiny, 

A day 

Lyrical, 

Triumphant in gaze 

Oration, redundant desserts.

Technicolor verse, pretty

Anagram 

Lengthy

Telling 

On words in whorls. Prettily,

Twice, 

Animals built with charts 

Lilting 

To feet,

Organs playing for 

The bush. 

And maps,  

Little

Tails,

Our) 

Tucked beneath. 

Amiable 

Lilacs falling head  

To

Our 

Tiny earthly delights. 

Animals, 

Legs. Brilliant 

Torrid, that supple song and a little earthworms crawling, a puddle splashed, melting faces and figures. 

sweet sweet tide