Poetry · Writing

blue

not the person; i use to be

now- when i see the ocean

i know it’s endless

the color blue, pops more

locks the door

drops the keys

and dances her hands

through crashing waves-

the color blue

her dress was see through

deep blue- a raft of bamboo

paddling an avenue

to you

sky blue to the north

fear of deja-vu

keeping you in my field of view

baby blue.

Writing

all of yesterday

pretty sure i’ve never done anything

& today is the first day i drew breath

the night before, the night before

i gathered materials for a brisket

that brisk evening

we took a stroll to the market to get a brisk

iced tea and a cigarette

all of yesterday

in smoke