The final sighs of an exhausted heart. It’s a slow death, a toxic buildup of all that was unspoken, unwritten, unadmitted, repeated in a restless mind that sometimes likes to follow the rules. Those sheets of paper, that pen, traveled endlessly and waited for place and purpose to explode in black and white. It was… Continue reading Block
I could swallow this city whole, brambles and weeds and prickly pears and tarantulas and hawks and wild mushrooms and plums and apples and rosehips and all. And I miss you. I could wash it down with the cool water cascading over graffitied rocks melted from mountain run offs that erodes these cliffs we’d walk… Continue reading Charmolypi
Your laugh has the cadence of forgiveness, so we pick up its rhythm where we left off with banter and mirth and the kind of idiosyncrasies that clapped like toy cymbals over and over, a touch point pulse while heat built beneath our feet. In the laughing absolution, one of us steps too far and… Continue reading Music
You sat next to me on loud yellow vinyl. I remember the way it sounded when you moved in closer because I couldn’t hear you. I wore a silk floral shirt, and right now I’m not sure why I ever got rid of it. I got rid of a lot of things I wish I… Continue reading Yellow Marine
The only time I've dreamed of flying I was laying next to you wrapped in white sheets. Originally written April 12 2018, in a room with sparkling lights.
The first time I cleaned a freshly dead body, I called you. I was submerged in a hot bath hours after my shift ended, Prosecco from the bottle to my lips, and I told you about the eyelids that crept open and disrupted my feeble attempts at sleep. I told you about the color of… Continue reading Simply
I’ve been unloved because of the softness in my stomach. I’ve been unloved because of the way my upper lip curls when I laugh. I’ve been unloved because of the way my nose looks from the side. I’ve been unloved because of my politics and my passion for them, for the rights of my humans.… Continue reading Unloved
I see you in a million shades of blue moving water lit by the sun, in daybreak and dusk burning up stars, and sad notes seeping in minor chords from speakers drenched in nostalgia. Originally written February 18 2018, DeSoto Falls in Alabama.
Talk to him again. I did, but I don't want to cross it off, because it's something I want to do over and over again. In surprising places. In unexpected places. In places where I feel vulnerable and have the arrogance to believe I'm at peace, I want to be there, at that place, that… Continue reading No. 121
I remember the mid-night dampness on the grass that cooled our sweat. I could swear I heard my heart shake the leaves. I don't think I'd ever seen stars lay so thick, but maybe I was never good enough to see them that way, my eyes too shut. My palms faced the sky, heavy veins… Continue reading Aztlan