Poetry · Writing

quarantine crush

can hear the singing

two buildings over

three stories up,

she’s cooking dinner

she loves Otis Redding

can see her shadow sometimes

as she spins by;

she saw me once

waved and went about

she had her hair up,

maybe she was cleaning,

i wish i was wearing a better shirt-

next time

Poetry · Writing

igor

transfused:

bleeding finger tips

over your tan washed drum kit

dragging your worship like a rotting corpse.

early on sundays to meet

before wandering eyes can undress

my wishful thinking;wishing

and put her in wolf fur.

i am sorry for missing our date

not one to do that

but

i can’t promise

that it won’t

happen again