Ask me anything


poetry is not pretty. it is a diary in codes.

you can’t make anybody move away from home unless home comes to you

6 days ago
0 notes

estes park

constipation grumpies climbing,

among many people i like, i know Nothing (not even peter)

will make me smile again unless i poo, (but occasionally

glancing over to the mountains and dropping

my breath for the light in the valleys)

and it’s hard to listen to the mountains

instead of the traffic jam in my intestines

1 month ago
7 notes

any minute now

so any minute now, i’ll explode (counting the train stops

while the lady behind hums soulful

renditions of the conductor’s Sharp voice Lord,

tea is too hot for today and my stomach in knots

because of the goodbyes i have to say:

a year is a year is a year is a year

nd a handful is easy but one person is hard,

looking and you and hoping that a poem that happens to my stomach is no where near my heart)

1 month ago
3 notes


yea the dips in the seats on the train hold water when it’s raining;
i sometimes put my umbrella there but mostly
sit on them without remembering.
got 20 cents more for the subway back?
people who smoke on the train wish a lot of things,
and perfect isn’t perfect so
So dependent on feelings i’m finding you tucked away
in my own little corner of the room.

4 months ago
2 notes

how much time

words are harder when you don’t have time for them.
a little self-centered, i don’t understand “loving yourself,”
but something in me says go -
something in my lower back Or
in my shoulders Or in my brain asks
Do You Pray For Me? can you pray for me,
and where do we find something we both believe in?
asked you to read my testimony, my manifesto,
listen to my jumbled sermon feelings but mostly
be a little nicer - what to keep to myself nd
what to say are: am i doin it right?
love, love love
love love love love.
maybe my change is from you,
or maybe i’m all talk, dancing terribly with dangerous possibilities of how
fast i’d cry, and
how much time i’ll have for words.

4 months ago
2 notes

p, one year

i found the world wrapped in tape, halfway up a tree,

finding puzzles the way i find paint: the way people talk, the reasons that we love,

and i love you past the moon (they always say) and finding ways to go to mars

one day i can’t wait, i’m following and leading at the same time (you too),

and some nights i see your shoulders from the front and your lullabies

from against your chest when only mine is rising and falling like thunderstorms

but i know that when we find the tree, i’ll be up there with you and right now

i’m finding you around every corner and above any height;

perfect isn’t perfect but perfect is you and we always land in the right places

1 month ago
3 notes

hot air balloons

because the world wasn’t made for hot air balloons,

bananas chap my lips,

and shoes don’t fit my toes,

i’m moving. i made a list of reasons

and all of them were in my gut,

behind my collar bone,

closer to you and farther from long hair and glue gun burns;

happier (closer) to what i wanted in january,

farther (closer) from my love for my sister - 

i’m sorry (it’s not that i can’t find the world in you)

1 month ago
2 notes

i don’t understand

someone cut the shoes hanging from our backyard wires, and sometimes
brussel sprouts taste like fish - hey,
beer with dinner isn’t as good as you thought it would be
and i’m afraid of growing bellies the way
you’re afraid of worms in brussel sprouts:
was that so hard?
my hair is everywhere,
and if i could be as quietly intelligent as her, i would be.
i think my purple toes make sense,
if you count the mobiles in my neighbor’s window
and your sad way of saying goodbye;
i want to count the stars, brother,
although the city (yours) is too much.
i don’t think i can finish my beer (1.50 left) -
want it? i don’t care how many times
your girlfriend told you to shave your legs,
you’re anonymous
and if you don’t drink my beer i don’t think i can anymore.
why do you leave the light on Even after
they clipped the shoes from the backyard wires?
why are you a stranger in our house?

3 months ago
3 notes

half asleep ii

lazy is cheesesteaks to me, meeting friends but being confused
by one of them. well i know you’re awkward too,
me and you and me and you,
closer than last month but still far from together

4 months ago
2 notes

cold sore

waiting for my cold sore to go away -> oh they’re home!
finding clothes and talking coke (not us) i remember you still love me;
how i won’t tell you i’m alone.

4 months ago
2 notes