2.8 KiB
i am friends with the floor and deeply do i know her her cracks and her grooves and the way that she spins and she moves i know i’m going there i know i’m going there i know i’m going there to see what lies behind her when i feel the eyes staring dull-ly at me or tearing away
you can become a word or a word can become you never quite fully stretching over your body
not expecting anything but the changing of the seasons
and in the other room are all my dreams coming to life
i will weave into existence the piña shirt i will wear for the rest of my days made of all the things i should’ve been words, acts never realized hemmed with promises
we will dance like fairies as paradise burns waking after the passing dawn
autumn dreams remember the memory of the sun
what makes jerusalem a special city
in the second semester of elecromagnetic fields, i was asked to solve maxwell’s equations: for the magnetic pull of scattered places, changing places for the wavelengths of violet light, passing through calloused fingers for the electric potential, built up charge between father and son for the current density, always running back to mother tomorrow i will not show up to class
so tell me, are we immigrants or abductees? i am a stranger on stolen land i would be stronger in my home land
it's you, a warm robot beaming jubilantly in the corner, livening up my life in empty thickets. my delusional beauty decays from my scalp and drifts off in the water, i wade into the swamp to chase it, forgetting to go where you can’t follow.
in my lockbox, i have stored a parcel of yearning
why do you let me live, passing me like trucks on the freeway? all i know are the streams of lives i glimpse into which will not fit around my waist
your voice cuts like a radio on the wrong frequency "i remember you were a boy grow up i want to be a writer"
when i grow up, i want to be neither a fox nor colder. i want to write a remedy which sings the world bolder - a bright, brown or gold, glittering stain to ruin your whitened wedding.
i've never seen so many roadkill coyotes before, pink like bare mesquite branches, rickety like a promise. our texas is an ocean, deeper than the moon; i will miss your company when the sea rises to applaud.
soft-footed whispers on the cold tile, drowned in the seismic tremors
choking me with your smoke at the dinner table
coveted reunion of a fragmented people with their messiah, drafted a soul only to die to martyr for the greater lie and lessen the burdens of idols of grass and gasoline
all the women of my life, singing "merry christmas" to dead men.
jesus never grew up in a broken home
so you fall asleep wondering if angels struggle speaking in tongues their fathers and mothers cannot speak
we eat off dinner tables donated by our dear, diligent dead
a few tears ago