Poetry · Writing

my favorite ode

i ask for this dance;

your hand in mine

the curve of my palm at curve of your waist

we won’t waste the song

either my own or one that is slow-

slow enough so our steps sync with our beat

it is

unique

our beat

drums come

the night

stay; in

our arms

we will

dance till

our hearts

recall

every

note  played;

the song

our song we will humb on the way home

humb in our bed

humb in our dreams

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Poetry · Writing

where did you come from

the golden x on the map

was your address

across unnamed land

a festival featuring a panda as a king

around the parade featuring that same panda

i’ll bring you flowers and a stuffed bear

yes, the panda from the festival

and will come back for cotton candy

Poetry · Writing

lavender

it’s what home smells like

the aroma carries my clothes in my place

like a soft hand across my cheek

floating-

a memory shaped in a circle

never-ending

a reminder that you were here,

but when the scent fades

i crave you

a little taste to carry me for the week and the next

to be closer to home

found on the tip of your lips

the palm of your hands around my waist

leaving your lavender imprint on my chest

burning deep enough

so home is always with me

Poetry · Writing

two times

i want it more than you

so keep my name out of your mouth

i don’t have the ego for this era

and it’s on the low

you can read my name from your couch

you’ll go to the internet and vouch

that your time was stolen

that i never punched out

this wasn’t your shift

and this isn’t overtime

i’ve been here putting in two times

working two times as hard

putting in two times the effort

and you’ll complain two times as much

but i never learned your name

but you know my story

Poetry · Writing

thirty and counting

i worry that i’ve wrote it before

said it before

and the words lose meaning

like white out to a dictionary

i mutter white noise

it’s not that this was my goal

or i over say these words

i don’t want you to question or forget

i don’t believe in ten seconds you’ll forget

it’s the eleventh i want to be remembered

and after the twelfth i’ll be there to hold you

thirty i’ll build you a fort that we can live in

a map will be in your email in the morning

Poetry · Writing

sitting on a borrowed porch

on a porch

not my porch, a quiet family owns this porch

they go away on the weekends

i like to imagine they have a country house so their kids can play-

i feel apart of it when i sit here

the tire swing

star-gazing past our bedtime

never going to sleep cold,

on the porch

i go to sleep tucked in with a kiss on the cheek

but like a dream it’ll end

in the morning they’ll return

and i’ll be gone

Poetry · Writing

between sunset and a canoe

i don’t believe it was a dream

that brought me into your life

it wasn’t a boat dancing in rose petals

it was the warmth of your two arms

reminding me that it’ll be okay

that this job isn’t going to be the end

a rose petal boat ride didn’t bring me here

but i’ll bring you across that river

and will enjoy the view:

a sunset, one that pauses time-

 

Poetry · Writing

garbage man with an emerald necklace

a palace in comparison;

in comparison to the dump

where i find myself foraging for berries and a necklace

a necklace to present you:

i see it in my dreams, it is beautiful a single gem

the color of a lawn that exist longer then one summer

and i want to put it around your neck,

a present for a princess living in her palace

anyway to distract the fact that i live in the dump

and i want your parents to like me

and i want to be invited back

but i only have the one necklace

Poetry · Writing

hunting the bottom of the pit

i am not a seer

a witch or a god

but i knew i’d be here

falling;

falling through the depth with arms outreached

trying to grab onto anything

anything more than the absence of screams of help

falling;

for you

is nothing less than colorful

like a rainbow slide with a green hat at the bottom

falling;

i don’t want to stop

i worked tirelessly to fall this long and hard

and flying feels like walking over cement

until falling with you

the bottom never comes

not sure it exist

and i love it