knowing you is kind of like knowing only the face
and the name
seeing the person
a flashy and vacant appearance
where I can only see the gleaming wet pavement
and a heart pounding
surrounded by lack of attention
or authenticity
in time in time
things will take and take
a person may seem nice at first Shiny,
they will never hurt you
but then they take off their mask
and there’s another one, and another mask,
emotional availability is
the only promise
I just stare and wait to see a real face
but only receive a
sneak preview of a person
a sneak preview of the most perfect person
and a subpar plan
every weekend of the season
o be cut short
and goes nowhere
falling down the stairs
and it goes nowhere
poem
in
I’m pulling the emergency brake on this car
it going backwards at a full speed
down the steepest hill
I’m in a space between who I used to be
and who I want to be
finally there
is a balance
I’m wearing the same
lack of color
a few weeks ago I was convinced
that I had murdered a friend
from the past
there was guilt that
I was carrying
grief
I spent an entire day searching
the internet for the way that
she died until
I found the article that states that
she was hit by a car
21 and enthusiastic about her education
free
everytime that I think it’s a good idea
I remember to look at the area where
the skin is illuminated
bright pink
it’s tiny and raw piece of skin
that doesn’t Belong to my hand
it’s someone else’s
I didn’t notice when it happened
it grows larger
as I lose my tan from last year
in contrast
with the gray skies
it’s the first thing that
a stranger sees
Morning song
A giant woke up in a house with tissue paper walls and light that fills every corner. Look at this painting! Look at that painting! Look at the window! They’re waking up with you. The trees are bare. Talk about how it’s prettier in the summer. Look at it and say that it is not enough for the moment.
idntknnow
carefully carefully
please be aware
of the green leaves
that are taking over this
bed
the window,
bare
with a few snowflakes
shaking around
I am covering myself
In this bright orange
Wool blanket
Eyes lowered
legs bare in the
winter sunlight streaming
through the window
I feel like a you
foreverago
please for the love of god
stop apologizing
for rejecting me.
stop apologizing for
you need a place to lay your
aching fucked up head. You
couldn’t stay
with the other woman
she’s yelling things at you from her car
I woke up thinking about
the warmest day of the summer
it was rainy and we were in the corner
of your new bedroom
it was a humid warmth, contained.
you didn’t bother to acknowledge it
while I was doing everything in my power
to hold it in my hands
45
To the abandoned house on the corner of the street that I would judge every time that I would pass. I’d like to begin by saying that I am so sorry for judging you. I’m sorry that I would stare at your spray painted spots. I was only trying to understand why you had a high wire fence surrounding your abandoned parts. Were there people living in you? Squatters? It’s too late now. All that you stood for is gone. The brash abandonment is being replaced by a fresh coat of paint.
one day in dec.
jumping into your car
moving full speed
in a day where
nothing happened
someone is
sleeping in the back but
I don’t remember if that
was just a figment
of my imagination
I couldn’t remember
we’re going around the corner
and it’s taking everything in my power
to hold it closed
you are nothing but
the open road
open
door windows cracked
bruised toxic air
that you so
willingly bathe in
Craggy Gardens
maybe people aren’t as bad as I think they are
there is still a heaviness
in my chest
it’s all there
left to communicate
but not being able to
yesterday I drove to my favorite spot
on the blue ridge parkway
from there I can see a pristine lake
blue-green and solid
seemingly untouched by
humankind
I don’t need anyone or anything
8
without the tornado people
how am I going to write poetry
seeing these shiny happy
so privileged that look like they’ve
walked off a country living catalog
I feel like I’m staring at a different life
that I never want to be a part of
I’m still looking for you
I’m still writing shitty love poems
It’s still cold and everything
seems like it has remained the
same
this must be the place that I come
back to, even if it’s a painful
place
there is a whole in my heart
the shape of the day
we spent at the park and another one
for the day
I went to meet
you by the river