groundhog day

light that shows
through the trees
projects delicate
shapes on the boardwalk
on this lined paper
my dress
these are the only patterns
that matter
words don’t mean a
is it this sweat
from my face
stinging my eyes \

someone is starting
a motorcycle
the lawnmower man

mowing his
lawn is not new
and the bird
conversation happening
overhead is
centuries old

love:season 2

Is that the love of my life talking
or my stomach growling?
Sure, it may be an unfulfilled
walk under the full moon.
A familiar type of suffering.
I will eat every single grape nonetheless.