poems

vivid dream activity

not even death has to be a disaster
death can just be an illusory smell
that stays in the nostrils weeks after
something traumatic happens to your body
an unexplainable wrench
no one will understand when
you ask ‘do you smell that decay’
but then you remember a time that
where you had your face pressed
up to death
non happenings stick
quarantine has dismantled time
the space between life and death
has now become the
infinite version of it still
we all feel it
we’ve all been bashed inside

dog on the floor

I’m sitting with the
dog on the kitchen floor
the walls in this house
are sand timers
slow moving honey

it stops for a second
as I look at the reflection
of me and the dog

in the background is
yelling, screaming,
singing out of joy
it’s hard to tell
but its heavy and delusional

moans and groans
a heavy head
a heavy chest through
the wall
paralysis on both ends

lines …I’ll make lines
and pretend
that I’m showering
lines and
we both pretend he’s showering

make lines
tie the belt real tight
the shower water is running

tangerine

rainbow colored
weird fishes
are pointing to the black birds
swaying on the top of the pine
It’s a warm and humid earth
the strength
felt months later
It’s sort of difficult to walk
calmly to the lake and
through the paths
it’s always been
quiet on the outskirts
on the outside
the interior
creates
/ multiplies the worst memories
obscures them
now morphing into
dark blinders
I seem to be incapable
at this time

patterns aren’t real

Fleeting feeling
with burden

like symptoms
the tote bag feels sturdy enough
to carry my stuff
there is a rash at the bottom
of my throat
I think
I thought
It exist

caused by the sun
he also suggested listerine
an overstimulation
from farm to
table
from farm to
city

and back

I was once
a gentle
old man sitting
on a park bench holding
my stuff

walking in ny

A creaky heart
with each inhale and exhale
is a twig holding the
full
red belly of a
little bird that travels nocturnally

Walking past the bar that looks
like a 1920’s gathering
with its yellow round bulbs
decorative and dark borders

The trash on the sidewalk
seems to have come together
through serendipity
for the pleasure of
the moonlight, the streetlight
and the rain from earlier

Treasure from this angle

and then it started raining

Before boarding the plane
my step-dad gave me some sudden advice
“Don’t accept free food samples”
I suppose being poisoned
is a fear that I had yet to acquire

but at last here it is

I sipped from a glass of wine
elegantly placed
between a marble statue and concrete

on the third sip, I found myself upstate
in the closing part of winter

there I was, staring at the ceiling fan
trying to convince the man in the red wool sweater
to paint over
all of the thin black lines
I had painted on their door

sucking at french

There is no second guessing
the you
the bruises,
cuts, and scrapes
acquired through a job we both hold
Especially the one my left hand
between my thumb and index finger
A reverse punch \
I think the reason that I am questioning
pointing out
the slightest of cracks
slivers of a gray light
is because that is what got me through it before
It being a ,
whatever I don’t need you
feeling

I am a sage and rose bush hybrid
but made of paper,

It could have been worse,
watching him
punch those girls in the face
rather than kiss them
Would have hurt ……
more?
because violence,
right?

cinnamon sweetens
the apple cider vinegar
but the drink still erodes
the teeth