Her color catches you first–
blushing pink surrounded
by louder, redder sorts–
your early girls, your better boys–
a wall flower at the dance. 

Our Rose needs no dressing up.
Her shy sweetness with an edge 
of sass plays well with just a sprinkle
of salt. She’s not to proud to tuck
into a sandwich, play second fiddle. 

But you won’t want her to.
Once she’s seduced you, you’ll pay
her proper respect, arrange her
on your prettiest plate, break out
your finest olive oil. 

While she lasts, you’ll keep coming
back to her. With her veil-fine skin,
her weight heavy in your hand, you’ll
feel the languid warmth of July nights,
the laziness of August days. 

Dear Andrew,

         I wish you would have written to me sooner. I appreciate you reaching out to me nonetheless. I know how confused you are and how out of control things must seem at the moment. But don’t you remember when you were late for your baseball game and didn’t get to start but hit a home run when you were out in? You won’t feel this way forever and this challenging time will pass. It’s an opportunity and a privilege when you lose yourself to find yourself again. Your journey to do so will be rewarding in its own way. You’ll just have to accept that part about your life. But it’s your life and that will make it special. And if you ever don’t feel special, know you’re special to me. If other people or you, yourself don’t see or understand that, just know they or you will recognize it eventually. It’s very rare to figure anything out and even more rare to put it all together at once. My experience has been slowing down and appreciating every little victory really helps. I hope to hear from you soon again, good or bad news please let me know how you’re doing. 

                                                     Love, your Aunt,                                                                

                                                                 Stacy

if I knew the algorithms 
that were in place
to make you and me

if I knew the equations
that were executed
that I broke my soul
to know you
to see you
to breathe
you

I’d show the world
so they could feel
the red electric burst
when your hips move

all of us
deserve
this kind of love

With 8 minutes to go
I dash off a poem

Mascara smeared
Bangs askew

It’s been a good day
Or life or moment

The poem captures
The motion

In stillness
The page still

My center.

Worry drives affection away

Impermanence emphasized by the too-loud clicking clock in this hotel

What’s the use of a moon if you can’t think of someone else
Seeing the same one?

What’s the use of worry when you don’t know how to fix this?

Worry drives despair away

Nauseous and restless

Trying to remember how we talked differently a month ago

How (if?) I could go back to being someone you could want

Follow the script of “before” (has anything changed?)

And why can’t I be good enough

To command attention

Deserve love

Write good poetry

Make art that means something

All not for me, but to display as proof that I am someone

Or could be, please, to you

please like me
please like my poetry
poetry is therapy
poetry is life
life is fleeting
life is crazy
crazy complicated
crazy to predict
predict my failure
predict my success
success is undefined
success is brief
briefly here
briefly high
high on dopamine
high on accolades
accolades for nothing
accolades for something
something that took years
something that took decades
decades of loneliness
decades of fear
fear of rejection
fear of regret
regret for things undone
regret for songs unspoken
unspoken prayers
unspoken love
love for others
love of hidden beauty
beauty imperfect
beauty from ashes
ashes of facades
ashes still burning
burning with tears
burning with hope
hope for present
hope for future
future of triumph
triumph over depression
triumph over inner voices
voices that degrade
voices that destroy
destroy potential
destroy peace
peace that is perfect
peace that is mine
mine…
perfect…

A calm social gathering 
The smell of gunpowder in the air
Lingering in between 
Rounds of Roman candles
And laughter amongst us 
The warmth of pavement beneath us
All I can think about 
I’m ready to slide into bed 
Become tangled up in you
Its like finding my way home 
For the first time 
Every time.

from this country porch
the world seems to be doing its thing:
sun setting   moon rising
frogs croaking   calves bawling
                       you keep your eyes
on the thin border of the horizon
without turning around
without blinking
in your somewhat serious voice
you ask “what is a tomboy?”

hummm
how to tell your seven year old
granddaughter about such a term
its history longer than
all’s well that ends well
from bad boy to bad girl
a leap like a genetic mutation,
today it’s a wild romping female
and how long will that last

who called you that
some out of fashion adult
your baby teeth are gone
and so are your barbies
now you play in the dirt
and dig for worms
in cops & robbers you’re the robber
you climb trees and jump
out into bales of hay
days go by without brushing your hair

pink has left the evening sky
moonlight defines what is seen
and what is not
any answer is put off till morning
it’s that brief period between fireflies
and complicated explainations
                     you run down the night path
to your tent
fifty yards from the house
where you will sleep out
for the first time 
by yourself

9: Ni no Kuni (Level-5)

the thing about video games is that you’ll spend

twenty hours grinding levels to one hour of

pig-rotten brotherhood seaming back together

neat as unsplit puzzle pieces,

like fifteen years and dead fathers and heartbreak haven’t

stolen an ounce of the ease they once felt

holding hands or knowing each other’s names.

and you’ll spend twenty hours hand-picking

every nitty little item off the whole damn map

while ten thousand years of regretful, ivory-towered pacing

through another day alone

and another and

another for three million more

is summarized in five minutes of voice acting and a longer boss fight.

and i know i’m playing this to exercise a different muscle

than the one that writes

these words,

but it’s hella weird to expect the legerdemain of Ghibli

yet to get Pokemon instead.