March 23rd, 2015
unwarranted, an assertion-
initially, taken aback.
Bluntness on par,
the humor remains forever here within.
struggling through springing ahead--
hymns chime rhythmically,
properly scoring soundtracks of swapped shame.
clock the words per minute;
Somewhere sunken you're finally found-
suddenly striking upon realizing the vibrancy,
of the murky hydrogen oxygen hidden coral reef gems.
You're an Aquarius.
The cusp, posed queries-
tarot card tea leaves transfiguration
resonated bullshit until something has to give.
Corrected Friday the 13th,
reaffirming confounded confirmation
that the planescape lunar hung ostentatious in confidence.
Full tooth grin, unsettling-
a consecutive fifth day unholy numeric.
Relief in discovering
the willingness to suffer through,
glints of you mirroring the roots of the giving tree.
milliseconds of comprehension.
Months? It has only been months?
tiptoeing trepidation tightrope:
Happy trails with those temperatures.
Eighteen degrees of unification;
scarf, mittens, layers, Sinatra, gloves-
freshly steamed almond milk,
quadruple digit distance:
a catalyst for our cohesion.
August 24th, 2015
Quantification non numerically-
digits far more comprehensible
when seasons are separated by songs.
Twelve proper nouns; an arbitrary division sign:
There was that
April through November:
subzero, discovering how Dante layered the inferno, so divinely.
Proper nouns, it's proper nouns
Seven levels of hell, signified by The First Arrest-
& refusal to the power struggling deputy as she tested the waters of fate,
sadistic pleasure of inflicting Virgina's most striking fear,
for I'd much rather be breaking into
that first apartment
on Nostrand Ave,
Climbing out of a back window-
sunshine climbing fire escapes
to an unlocked window
one building over & four floors up-
Enter the second teir: Sunfire Skyways,
a dead engine, battery--
& 275 had never seen such audacity.
An evening tow, seventy two intervals later,
& a fatal whim decision.
The third layer, Waning Whatevers.
that May should have had the common courtesy
to talk me out of.
And as we further to four, enter Family Farm Picnics:
Repeat the meaningless details about yourself
every Sunday at sundown
until your white glove accidentally slaps
the family name.
Outlet City five,
or How Shoe Shopping Could Ever Be So Unbearable.
Slumping to the sixes,
Sleeping Until The Seven That Is Sunset-
a completely inversed waking schedule
to avoid the dark entity
you decided to move to
precolonial New England with.
& we've reached the fiery furnace,
the fatal finale,
one feline friend,
& no sensible sense of what might come next.
May 31st, 2015
Thrice, we've count it,
& on the third day, she stirred
awoke in a foreign world
open quote Home close quote
I've got the best of no worlds
with a planescape multiverse
to root me in verses of nowhere
Trembling against a barren white wall,
There was no option, really,
more like oh okay, this is happening
if only luggages had an odometer,
a pensive recollection
of the railways & cobblestone
prior to a wheel broken properly
on Cambridge cobblestone
Let me drink about this:
360 degrees of virtual reality simulation
paper cranes, paper planes;
on a barf bag
a writer's writer...
Turquoise ink with a panoramic view of the city at sunset.
How did we-
oh how did we...
it's like nothing ever stopped
who would expect any other wise way
of proving our existence through
the music of the music
doors always open
we can’t keep track of
the frivilous shit
you live on my edge
you say it
melodic melancholy mondays
snoozing on sunday…
avoiding the procrastination
that beholds us
no, not you & i-
it’s always been-
tanks and disaster
in the corner,
a mess to be made
looking into the future–
and the themes of-
a water spout to prove me right
oh-all that…the. the.
the real money ice cream
my eyes watering,
abrupt my laughter
your dad said it best:
you never giggled before you met me.
my novel abode
home in a hazy hazel daze
the comfort of
and in the sunshine specks of golden glimmer
hazel hazy hectic harmony
it is how
you know to hear me
not to look for me
impossible to find
the night of infinite showers
a cave of dust,
dirt, deteriorating what was is was is is is is…
a cave of similar kin; however, nothing of the like;
in a nutshell-
we hate to love to say it
a venn diagram
a split in the world
we don’t understand
don’t realize enough
you can see
hazel in black
black in hazel
that golden shimmer
illuminating under clear skies
reflected in the bioluminescense
lost in color,
you know not to look for me
you’re the one who learned
to never look for me-
you know you’ll hear me
the flame of that lighter
even when my mind struck lightning
wind can blow out your fire
but, i’m following
feeling your fire-
to feel your fire
and you know never to look for me
you can hear me when you need to
the cliche three beats of that exhausted drum