-

this poem has been temporarily removed

we

we are a mixture of poetry and chemistry

one part nuclear attraction 

two parts sunshine and belly laughs 

i think of you sixteen times before breakfast

we are a balance beam 

and i'll only fall 

for you

adolescence and the green light fades

I

America the beautiful the promised land.

There’s no end to the sky there’s no burn to the sand

Six years old-- grasps a water-gun in gritty hands

II

Green lights fade, Gatsby’s dead and there’s red stop signs

Red like the debt and the lines in our eyes

Cynical-- seeing guns behind every headline

III

Frost thought we were escaping by turning to the sea

Beds neglected and we’re turning to the drug of caffeine

Neglected and forgotten

--The American Dream--

Palms

You can not go on with clenched fists

The only thing you will gain is 

Nail marks in your palms 

And sore muscles

You must learn to let go 

And learn that there are others whose hands can fill the empty spots in you own

You must push on but 

It need not be alone 

The clenched fists await the bruises 

And wait for the fight to start

Open hands are quick to welcome, 

The beginning of an open heart

Human

You are flesh and you are allowed to hurt
To feel
Tender, and raw, and weak
And to seek comfort in warmth

You are water like the earth you live on
You will feel waves and ripples
You will always be flowing but sometimes
There will be rough seas

You are bones and you are able to be strong
Heal yourself at amazing speeds
Grow and feel the growing pains

You are muscle and you
Grow stronger from the stress
Flexing, pulsing in every moment
A heart that never quits

You are human, every bit of you
Every bit that
hurts and flows and heals and grows
You are allowed and
You are able

You are loved in your brokenness
We are all broken sometimes
It is proof that we feel

You and I

The slender arched back of a park bench and a beautiful blue sky

If she could, she would sit next to him forever, and watch the world go by

Everywhere else life rushes head on, but together they stop time

Create their own infinities, forevers, languages and rhymes

He’s her anchor in the storm, steady, constant, stable

He’s her partner in dance and crime, who is also able

To make her cheeks go pink

And make her heart beat double beats

(And she’d sit on that bench for an eternity

Because it has all the magic she ever needs to see)

stomach cramps

I

Missing you like the ocean misses the sand rushing back in crashing waves, missing you

Like no one misses clichés

Missing you, the empty space between my fingers

II

Another year’s last breaths and I still feel uncomfortable during news anchor banter and when I’m asked to make a telephone call and I still haven’t built up a résumé or a time capsule or saved the world.

III

Another year’s last breaths and I became and am still becoming, and pride’s a funny thing because too much and too little are devastating, kind of like water, and I’m just trying to find the balance beam in between.

IV

They tell you you’re not good enough so they can sell you something and you tell yourself the same because you've started to believe it but you are good enough, they should put that in fortune cookies on ice-cream lids and between side walk cracks and everywhere else you’ll see it

VI

It isn’t the worst case scenario

VII

(This isn’t a poem) about missing you but I do. (This isn’t a poem)