Hopes are heavy. That’s why we say that we get them up.

And I know that it seems easy,
but adrenaline rises in a rush
to transfer energy and perpetuate movement
when you’re faced with something grand enough
to be worth lifting hopes.Read More »

I don’t walk around in euphoric affection-
I know I love my body because I love to know
my body.

Why it’s dry and when it bleeds, and if the seizures are going to stop,
what it likes to regulate towards.

My body knows what it’s doing; It has desires and needs.
I’ve faith in its imploring eyes, and it trusts me to oblige.

This is what I love most:Read More »

From snow, some strong leaves
would not fall. For new buds though,
the strongest will leap.

I know about happiness; we’ve met.
We just don’t get alone time—
anxiety’s name is , but. I don’t do simple sentences.

I know anxiety so well that I don’t have to see its face—
no matter how fast I spin, it’s always a hair’s breadth from my sight.

But I know it’s there. It breathes down the right side of my neck.
It’s got a chokehold. And trust me—when you’re that intimate with somebody else,Read More »

I’m into definitions today,
because I couldn’t have spelled out before
how tonic involves emotional connotations
of certain notes combined,Read More »

We all stand
on the same polka dotted mat.

You stomp the colored spots
like they’re disco-balls. You’re effortless,
the game’s commands flowing through
your veins. Your instinct: Graceful dance.

I start
with the center,
but one spot cannot hold two limbs!
So all that comes next
is a jumble-Read More »

Once the travel mug tired of journeying at last
and couldn’t even stand to take the paved road home,
Dave lost the dear friend in all its specificities.
But stomp its foot and huff its breath all it wants,
I don’t think that it will stay stagnant long.
Things roll, people shove, and you never have much say
in where you end up, which is not all bad, because
wasn’t the travel mug made to sojourn?
And aren’t our crimes against ourselves along with the rest,
until our selves break or break out into light?

Clustered leaves form a nest for the cloud
as I lie below, the tree’s outstretched arms
strengthened and still, waiting for the sky crown
to up and flit away, as I sit upon the tree’s feet
like a second weight, fragile as a burden,
heavy as royalty.

Place me along the breast of the blue jay when it claps its wings,
that I too may turn concave,
blown back by its power’s rush,Read More »

It is with urgency that the crickets chirp in each other’s gaps.
The wind rushes through the reeds on repeat,
as a lapping wave, and the owls insist
on crying out their rhetoric. Would that I had doneRead More »