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

yellow feet

in the valley of the fallen

we have no eyes

bound by moon and leaves

we leave our mortal feet

in the valley we fall in

our souls take flight

mirror of a feat

you show before you leave

we are the valley of the fallen

song of yellow

scared moths of the flames

a thunderous bark

n will call again

in fellow yellow