Tuesday, August 15, 2017

Fighting for Breath

Tea just isn't hot enough
or strong enough this week

and the hospital isn't an option
this time around the bend.
So instead I've made friends
with the sheets of my bed
and hot water, lemon,

and a few drops of honey

to get through work
before coming home

to die again.

Well, maybe, death's not
the real answer, it's just
when you're as sickless
as me, and you're coughing
up more mucus than your
tiny, little body should
be able to hold

every single moment

feels like you're

fighting for breath.

Friday, August 11, 2017

The Glare of Moonlight

Just because the waves are coming into shore

does not mean the kelp and seaweed will

lose their grip and come along for the ride.

Much like the ocean, you and I

will ebb and flow with the patterns

of each other, but we do not have to

say goodbye to our roots

just yet. 

Friday, August 4, 2017

Powerful Joy

Let's be something so beautiful and so memorable that we help the world shine, even through these unusually dark summer days. 

Thursday, August 3, 2017

Innocence Offered to the Gods

Trying to be soft,
learning to work.

I'm undoing your
tender heart.

Undressing anything
you might apologize to.

Even bare naked bones
aren't enough for you. 

Wednesday, August 2, 2017

Footprints and Farewells

The first time I ever went to a beach
I wrapped the name of another around
my tongue but dared not speak it
as I ventured on with their sister and
my own mother ( her's as well in a way).

Which I suppose made his name taboo
in one way or another, but that is besides
the point now; I am here to tell you

about the first time I ever went to the beach
and how I sat there watching the waves
pull away footprints of people who left
before we arrived and I heard the sun
laugh along with groups of prettier girls than I.

Now that I live close to a beach,
the waves are still taking away the sand
I got in my shoes all four years ago
and along with that sand they tug at
the letters of your name and the colors
of your face. Which is not to say that

you have been replaced by that other name
forked like barbed wire or a burning pitchfork,

simply that times change and somehow
the ocean remains the same despite
swallowing unsaid goodbyes whole.

Tuesday, August 1, 2017

NaPoWriMo #7 2017 Forget About Tomorrow

There are no tears I'm wanting to cry,
but there's still not enough coffee in
the world to drown me deep enough
or keep me awake for everything
I have to do tomorrow.

Saying goodbye even for a few days,
kills me, and even though you've got on
a brave face, like most boys your age,
your eyes show pieces of you falling away.

So for now, let's build one more
pillow fort and play stuffed animal
dodge ball, like when we were young,
I'll even let you scout for materials first.

Then we'll have at it,
little to no rules (except
the obvious, no breaking stuff)
and when it's all over,
the winner (you) gets
any lunch they want.

Mac and cheese?

Or have your tastes changed since
the days of Saturday morning cartoons
climbing trees just for the perfect pictures?

Either way, it doesn't matter,
lunch is on me, so that the coming
goodbye, godspeed, see you soon,
won't be so bad, so it won't

cut so deeply. 

Wednesday, July 26, 2017

Here's to Moving on

I'm not sad when I say this, because I'm happy now too, but I'm glad you've found someone who can make you outshine the sun the way you made me rival the stars. Congratulations, and if you guys want to go out for lunch sometime, there's a great new restaurant on the corner of 1st and Rose. 

Tuesday, July 25, 2017

Poetry about a Poet's Poems

Everyone's got this story
in their own voice, but 
few of them can word 
it as beautifully as


Monday, July 24, 2017

At the Station's Mercy

As the radio plays and the songs slow as they shift from one to another and you make your crazy little jokes, look at me in your weird ways, dance along with poor tempo, and strange patterns. These are the moments that will live on even when we can't. Although it does make me wonder what your favorite song is today. 

Saturday, July 22, 2017

Beautifully Young Instances of Friction

It's not the hotel sheets that make our story so lovely. It's the way everyone else backed off and let us live for ourselves.