a season of words, both heavy and hollow

I

Everything is supposed to be golden but I think I’ve turned to lead

Heavy, drowning, in a mess of sheets and sighs

I remember the light and

Turn it off instead

II

I always start to feel like I’ve overstayed my welcome

Someone screaming - get me out of here- out of now

“Next!” calls the lady at the desk

III

Swallow some honey for that cough but it doesn’t taste sweet

Deadlines start to make my throat dry

It’s dangerous to think of a person as a forever

They’ll start appearing while you sleep

IV

Free to float or swim under bright lights

I dream I am in a petri dish

 Under observation

They can read my movements but not my mind

V

Shells and balloons are both filled with air

But we only call one hollow

VI

And the song goes He holds the whole world, in his hands

My hands lack such responsibility

They grasp at empty air

VII

Gravity promises all will fall

Makes no claims about falling into place

VIII

You’re never finished

Just out of time

Love Bug

I don't know how I ever looked at you and felt anything but butterflies 

because now they are a permanent part of my guts they teach my heart how to flutter and my soul how to fly. 

and I

close my eyes and see you in dreams

wake up content with my reality 

and I 

catch feelings like something contagious during cold season 

but you make me feel warm and fuzzy inside

and I'm

sneezing spreading these feelings into the public eye 

and when they say bless you

I know I'm already blessed with you

so I

take candid pictures of you 

and write poems I don't know how to end 

trying to bottle up this feeling

of a love-bug-boy-friend

lucky

I spent a decade of my life looking through patches of clover

If I had ever found an extra leaf the hunt would be over

I'm not sure what I thought would happen to me

But it seemed it could never hurt to be a little more lucky

Though a pot of gold at the end of a rainbow would have been better

Maybe all I ever wanted was a change in the weather

A four leaf clover is an abnormality that I never did see

But all the same life has been astoundingly good to me 

 

the lesson of the lillypad

said the tadpole to his favorite pond

"i will never know a love like you"

said the frog upon his lilly pad

"what you say is true"

"you will never love,

like you did before"

"but you will love your lillypad

in ways different, new, and more"

not the poem i want to write tonight

i want to write poetry that opens blind eyes to empathy and tells a story but time isn't on my side and so i just leave you with one pathetic run on line and the promise of maybe tomorrow

this is monday morning

stumble out of bed into hot shower and check your texts
hands on the steering wheel and green lights and next

you're early enough to get a good spot
wet hair in the parking lot

blink repeatedly and drink water to stay awake
cold war and air pollution and passé composé 

bad posture and little enthusiasm 
the cafeteria is too loud for conversation  
in passing periods check your phone 
count down minutes until you go home 

thunder

i dreamed i was dying, gasped for breath and woke up to thunder

rubbed groggy eyes and heard the rattling drumbeat of life

i am mostly water that circulates throughout earth & history and
makes me a mystery and never stagnant but sometimes asleep 

there's a moment

there's a moment where i feel like i'm in a movie because you could not be anything but a star and we are spinning and everything else blurs

your forehead is against mine and my feet hurt in the very best way and it's hard to stop smiling when all i see is you 

courtyards become palaces and i'd show you the courtesy and curtsy to be your queen there's a moment and it's like infinity 

April

gave me life 

light after 

dark times

beautiful 

though stormy too

still dependable 

and true

trying to write about a feeling

you're hearing the song with your ears but feeling it in your chest
you're sliding between clean sheets

your cheeks hurt from smiling
your stomach is sore from laughing

you're waking up to the smell cinnamon rolls baking
you're finishing your new favorite book, and staring at the ceiling until your mind stops reeling

your tongue is tickled with cotton candy
your throat feels rough from singing at the top of your lungs, and from the bottom of them too

you're racing down the sidewalk; you won't be the rotten egg today
you're winning the class game of Jeopardy; take that other side of the room

your fingers are sticky from melting pop-sickles
your freckles are starting to show in the sun

you're trying to write about about a feeling
you're remembering why you're alive

earth day

when you were little you wrapped a blanket around your shoulders
and called it your super hero cape

your home planet has one too
atmospheric conditions perfectly created
to unconditionally allow the conditions for your life

but with the release of
chlorofluorocarbons
chemical reactions leave ozone depleted
uv radiation streams through a chink in the armor
you have torn your cape

just this morning you put your bread in the toaster oven
marveled at the perfect temperature

your home planet has one too
a greenhouse effect that effectively
keeps you out of the cold

but with the release of
vehicle exhaust
gasses absorb more heat then expected
long frozen icecaps begin to melt
you have burnt your toast

when you grow up you'll have a junk drawer
where you'll dump your unwanted stuff

your home planet has one too
natural cycles decomposing leftovers
to create nutrients for more life

but with the altering of
systems
lands fill with landfills and
fallen trees let erosion run wild
your drawer is breaking at its hinges

when you wake up tomorrow
the holiday will be over

your home planet will feel it too
you'll recycle, maybe
reuse an old watering can

but with habits unchanged
ignored
a planet suffocates and
we go with it
until tomorrow never comes

household axioms

I always put on my parking break,
but sometimes forget to lock the door.
My sister talks in her sleep,
and sometimes even snores.
My mother drinks coffee in the mornings.
My father prefers water or tea.
These facts of existence
Make up collective personality.

pluto kids

pluto was once a planet
until the scientific community changed it's mind

pluto continued to rotate, unphased
still a chunk of rock and ice

but a generation who knew
My Very Energetic Mother Just Served Us Nine Pizzas
felt personally affronted

a generation told they could be anything
until they couldn't
felt the pain of their own growth being stunted

gifted and talented to sad sleepless scholar
just reclassification
we travel on like pluto
tired but
unshaken

to my sister, the eleven year old

little bean you are
sprouting up
you are bright and stubborn and
one hundred percent spunk

you are kind but not always careful
sometimes you make me scream
you are beautiful; there are galaxies inside of you
more than you will dream

there are often grumpy mornings
snapping at you about dirty laundry
sometimes i'll rat you out to mom
and be sorry-not-sorry

little bean you are eleven
which even sugar-coated, is tough
but you handle it with more grace than i ever did
and you will always be enough

only you

your hands are scarred
but
fit
perfectly
in mine
you somehow,
quite endearingly,
are always on my mind
in sweet sleep
and daydreams
you're there
and its sensational
i'm reminded
every day
you are
irresistible
irreplaceable

things that i like quite a lot

bread with butter and honey
sticky on the fingers and rich to the tongue

the secret pride of sore legs
after a rare run

the far off horizon where
the sky meets the sea

and the way that you smile
when looking at me

you don't have all of me

pâte fermentée is old dough set aside

to make the next batch richer

find parts of yourself to set as "only mine"

don't glue permanent frames on snapshot pictures

you share every secret of your soul 

then as the story goes, they leave

if nothings set aside, your bread won't rise

and you won't freely breathe

blank space (it gets better)

if you climb mountains you'll see valleys

lungs must deflate to fill once more 

between skyscrapers are back alleys

the sun shines brighter after skies pour

how to attend a party

i. 

don't double dip. 

ii. 

prepare answers to common queries

your college and major are undecided, yes you have a significant other, 

no you can't show a picture, 

yes, you have gotten taller. 

iii. 

do not discuss politics

or sex

or religion. 

if possible remove all traces of opinions from your being. 

brush up on sports references and clever jokes. 

iv. 

watch the adults get drunk and slink back to the kids table. hope someone produces a deck of cards. 

v. 

hide in the bathroom. stare at yourself in the mirror and attempt to see yourself as they see you, two dimensional, or not at all. 

vi. 

make a mental note to learn to juggle. you've been building your resume,but neglecting your repertoire of tricks

vii. 
compliment the host before returning home, exhausted. 

goodnight room

my head hits the pillow hoping a poem waits there 

but there is only my heavy eyelids and designer eye bags 

and slippery dreams and cold sheets 

and goodnight texts and final prayers and 

sweet sleep

adventures

i would like to go on adventures with you
rub sunscreen on my bare shoulders
get lost on back roads
enjoy the scenery so much we forget to ask for directions
and have our picnic in the backseat of the car


you'll change the radio to classic hip hop
i'll bob my head and pretend to know the words


i would like to go on adventures with you
give my taste buds something new to think about
laugh so hard i spill water down my shirt
split dessert
and fight over the bill


you'll make life seem vibrant, genuine, and true
i'll realize every day is an adventure with you

go for it

sometimes you must live life on the sidelines

because it isn't your turn to be the star

and maturity is viewing that as just fine

and being a cheerleader with all your heart

but other times the bench is optional

and you get to say no (or yes)

and the rush is always sensational 

and saying go is always the best 

me

my mouth is

chapped lips, chewing gum, and hopeful declarations 

my hips are active,

and honest 

battle stations

my nose

favors eskimo kisses

is sometimes freckled

and often stuffy

my limbs

and their awkward grace

together make up something quite lovely

guts

shove memories down your own throat

until you gag up artificial nostalgia 

and cry into your bowl of cheerios

the past is always a certain kind of tense

and you handle it with poor bedside manner 

Always Another Answer (alliterations)

I’m no good at permutations or puzzles, but all the same, problems present themselves punctually.

And I’m not one to be beat by anything but the best so my brain storms functionally.

Though they are sometimes sly and slippery there are always sage solutions

And if you cram your cranium you can come to creative conclusions. 

how to turn yourself to stone

repeatedly punch yourself in the stomach

your body will grow tired of bruising

and develop an exoskeleton 

better

forgotten poems 

much like cloudy weather

are not preferred

but better late than never

straight teeth

sometimes i want to hold everything in place

its going quite well and i'd rather it not change

but they do not make retainers for life

and i'd forget to wear them anyway

a reflection on reflections (memory)

memories play like a highlights reel
"TOP TEN THINGS YOU MISSED WHILE BECOMING NEW"
pre-packaged, sorted, and prioritized
produced by the mind, ready for use by you

a dose of nostalgia and a few tastes and songs
mixed with a dream and a story you read
makes everything a bit fuzzy around the edges
until you can't quite trust your own head

if the comments from relatives are any indication
you've been spending time getting taller
meanwhile the plot holes in your childhood increase
and your supply of distant memories grows smaller

the shrinking photo-album of the past
has only a picture per page
and you only flip it open
when the present staggers, tipsy, off stage

and perhaps you are too new and fresh
to need that highlights reel
and perhaps memories aren't what you see
but rather what you feel

snapshot

when the sun is shining and life couldn't get much fresher

and the only thing on your shoulders is atmospheric pressure

smell the roses, take a moment, take a snapshot with the heart

memories will be sweet reminders 

when you must restart

Some Day

Somedays the molehills are mountains in disguise and my attitude is as bad as my posture. 

Somedays are hot and other cars' honks sound like mating calls. I am clearly the most desired specimen, for they're always calling for me. 

Somedays I splash water like I'm in a face wash commercial and end up with soggy eyelashes and ears and

Somedays I drink ice water like it's elixir after banging the ice trays on the side of the fridge and not returning phone calls. 

Somedays, you just have to keep going. 

Spring

I've spent too many months in darkness, wrapped in my cocoon. 

 

I descended into the underworld, 

played queen but did not smile. 

 

But today Persephone emerges, 

and the butterflies in the sky 

match those flitting in my stomach. 

 

Everything is fresh and new and full of light. 

The flowers tickle my nose, but you bring out my smile.