turdbreath
I wish I could be as delighted,
so full of pure joy,
as you were
in that moment I found you
chomping cat litter,
giggling at the sensation
of soiled clay
gritting between your baby teeth.
That grin,
filled with filth
and
elation.
I wish I could be as delighted,
so full of pure joy,
as you were
in that moment I found you
chomping cat litter,
giggling at the sensation
of soiled clay
gritting between your baby teeth.
That grin,
filled with filth
and
elation.
Darkness paints
My reflection
In Dali strokes
Worn face
A widowed blur
Of cross and bone
Crater eyes
Fixate you
Behind me
Hand to shoulder
An optical illusion
Smudging memory
Chiaroscuro woke
Silhouettes my breaking
Fortune
When words come out of my mouth I cannot stop the damage the eruption will cause
I have no time to warn you or myself that danger is upon us
I just sit helpless like you
waiting for better or worse
waiting to see who is left
to help me clean up my own rubble
shards of me laying everywhere
I am a mess
A hot mess
They tell me to learn how to get my point across without spewing
but nobody pays attention to the dormant
nobody listens to silence
nobody feels smoke
It is fire that draws them
fire that captivates them
fire that scares them
I cannot be dormant; I was born with too much tension in my body
steadily rising and rising
until
I
explode.
no one warns you that you actually do feel it in your heart– how your breath shudders, collapsing in on itself. how something concentrates in your chest, and stays tangled there for months, way too many months. i used to place my palm on his chest, just to remind myself of the thunderous way his heart beat. but now i wonder, is his paralyzed too?
Ruminating is like
the half moon:
i can’t tell
if it’s waxing
or if it’s
waning — what do
i look like —
a moon expert?
On my fortieth year down this freeway,
I am startled by a litter of six labs
bounding along the brush with abandon,
immune to danger in the tall grasses,
seeing with their noses, following
their noses, hearing keener than mine.
On campus, I spring along, encouraged,
suspended, deferred from demolition.
Snowbells line the way to the library,
recall the ghosts of ancient oaks.
One afternoon, you are all but under.
Belief! You hear. Belief!
You freeze, arms wide.
You think of the weight of the gist;
the dynamics of drift.
Hey you! Belief!
It is autumn.
It is time.
You open one eye.
The uninvolved green remains.
Fall will not happen for you.
Only the pure of heart be leaves.
