This is the feeling

Fall rasps me longways with its tongue
And I hope when I die
I die like the summer does

Untitled

There are moments when I am a fool
For us. When I think of sitting and drinking 
Coffee together and talking about how we've 
Grown, and how we 
Haven't. 

A Night at Dripping Rock

I am here to feel the leaves change color. Here to watch 

trees shake their heads like horses in the wind.

To see what quiet does to a young man. 

To ask if I can kiss a young autumn. 

See how that feels. 

A sparrow brushes my shoulder up on the high rocks.

The black sky is star-stained. Exquisite. Deep. 

I’ve been working on making it start.

The thick silence ruptures. Tree frogs and crickets climb out,

the night’s throat suddenly open, shrill til dawn. 

Working on making it start, again. 

This field of the mind is still the same. Yet I have begun 

to walk different paths through it.

Everything

is a beautiful
thing

if you went to a concert would you go to the front row?

I think you're really pretty,
But I focus on the raggae band instead

life's a funny place

maybe my self-care routine is me thinking
this is a game I can hack
maybe my lack of a self-care routine is me thinking
this is a game I can hack

i wanted

to chase after your rules

like afternoon thunderstorms

It's Hard to Understand a Person

when that person is you

It felt like

losing you happened 

behind my back.

galore

today i avoided you like porch light

to my headful of swerving bugs.

today i avoided me like a rest-stop bathroom that

hasn’t been cleaned by Tammy in two weeks

(fudged the numbers there).

Sometimes

I feel like someone is holding their hand
just above my skin but
they hold back.

Now This

Last night I fell asleep thinking pride was like a wild horse

I had to break. This morning the sun sits golden on the horizon,

Like the times I walked through the acrid, sick sweet smell 

Of burning trash, streets waking like your gut turning over and 

Starting in the morning. 

I remember the thick thudding of housemat being cleaned, the muffled 

Cough-hack-spit of a morning routine, birds freewheeling

Amongst the ramshackle wiring that reminded me of childhood doodles

And how I feel when I look at women. 

Now, my limbs ambling and loose, joints unfolding

Like math or a waterfall. 

Now, my thoughts hushed like loam. 

Body, standing in the middle of an empty highway.

No cars, no people.  

I remember, it is Easter.