this is real

under a pine tree
branch arms outstretched

covering us

a zillion light bulbs:

spotlights
for our night

if this is
if this is real

i never want to sleep

4:23

as I study your face

decorated by afternoon sun

my heart expands to make room

for all this

grandma

philadelphia art museum
with you
dreams were big
as we talked about gaudí

about sitting on roofs
though i’ve given up dreams
for now
that held weight
i wish i had grabbed your hand
while i sat with you
scrunched together on that little chair

yesterday, reading wordsworth
i’m the same
really
i promise
to show you we’re still connected

i promise i yearn
even

your hands fit

wait

reflecting and noticing light

eyes

minds

being true

all

securely giving

and I’m not afraid anymore

nothing rushed

because we have the time

to search out the perfect marble

we have the time

to savor  

sweetness

reach

 i.

what

I love

about you
most

is the way you reach

reach

reach

Always.

ii.

standing there all

bundled:

a puffy coat

mittens poking half-out of full pockets

a scarf wrapped to the chin

can barely move

I realize

I feel like a child

iii.

I break.

thoughts 

days

repeat, repeat, repeat

scattered and poignant 

I'm afraid 

I'm afraid

still, still!

but gently
you calm me

a word
a whisper
a knowing 

it’ll be okay

I Admit

Seeing a jumble and making conclusions
a goofy kaleidoscope lens--a snap reflex
I admit I point and shoot your limitations like I see so
clearly

jeopardy

i suppose he was content
enough.
maybe he didn’t even think about how he felt
–why waste thoughts on that?
jeopardy was on and he was at his station,
the dinner plate resting oh his belly,
the remote to his left,
his answers always right.

honest

it is past 11
i'm sitting on
my bed
just made
somehow rumpled
you are driving, driving
talking talking
it is hard to follow
you.

being honest with myself
hurts
being honest with you
hurts
things were so orderly
and now i'm
losing my voice

please just stay on the phone
and don't be too angry
please keep talking
and i'll try to
believe

slow down

i.
every passing truck
40 at least
lit up the cold
damp highway
it was much too close,
i remember.
you said your thoughts
it was too much
too bright
a flash in my face
and i,
confused,
labeled you"self-righteous"
quickly
to protect
to understand.

ii.
teach me how to slow
to wait
to see the truth of a person
a painful stretch, reaching
but such nearness
remains.

curious

you tell me that there are things I wouldn’t want to know
impossibly dark things
I breathe to take it all in
trying to
because maybe even this vague admission is the best you can give
why even understand
what you’re
telling in hesitation?
trying me
testing my curiosity
no, maybe my limits
of acceptance, of love
I find myself asking, “what, then, is the worst thing you’ve done?”
"I don’t mean to pry,"
I falter,
"but
something in you
wants
to be free."

work

sometimes you're high
at work
but hey, you're still chopping
onions
just fine
sometimes i wonder what you think
of me
so quiet
sometimes i think back to
my unrestrained chatter
so nervous and unaware
of the broken world
that first summer
working
i'll gladly do dishes
if i get a smile

unedit

i think i'm alive
really alive
when i'm in my car
in between
places
with no pressure
of editing speech
or action
or fitting snugly
into expectations
where i can chew with my mouth open
and sing songs loudly or softly
when i pray and feel
and smell and breathe
when i am free to roam
and simply go
without
pressure of tomorrow
or yesterday
without
deciding if the time is good or bad
this is when i live
in
the
wide open
moment

late call

a secret
lost on our
unequal sentiments

he dodged my
obvious interest with flattery
of another

deflections and rejections
and mumbled ends about
being tired

silly me
called a boy
much
too
late.

summer routine

i sat on my porch
ready to put up a wall
and instead i'm happy
that you biked over to simply talk about
grapes
and hopefully
this
will be routine

divided

divided

a part of me clings to
reality
that life crushes
with bills, jobs
expectations
loneliness
routine
why marvel in the little things when
weightier matters press?

but a larger part still innocently
hopes
for spontaneity in the everyday
because living is about
seizing
even small opportunities
it’s waking
with anticipation
it’s splashing in mud puddles
and choosing to believe the best
about my boss
it’s an eager
waiting
and loving even when it
hurts

South Dakota

barefoot and goofy, we launched into field
yelling warnings about prickles
after the sound of whooshing cars and the flashes of headlights faded
far, far away
we unzipped the sleeping bag
we huddled in close
silent and aware of hands and feet
we looked up at the bright

promise me

needing coffee
needing a word
remind me this
is worth it
promise me
it’s worth it
because waking
is sometimes hard

poetry class

poetry class was hell
because you sat across from me
and most days you skipped anyhow
we all sat in a circle
to feel metaphors together
and I rolled my eyes
trying to separate from dishonesty

consort

his benefit concert
I contemplated going
all day
I did
to be strumming the guitar
with goofy socks for something really important and meaningful, probably
like kids with aids
makes him feel worthwhile

I know deeply
there’s courage tucked in security
and that’s what he’s looking for
not some cheap admiration
some ego tweaking guitar gig
but how do I even say that
soft and unhurried
so he hears?

what if(s)

it’s morning and I’m pleading
with the bright sun
I’m breathing lightly
stepping lightly
tormented
tossing
thinking
I’ll never get back

on the way to work
pinkish sky in my peripheral
memories at the forefront
still and sorry
remembering seems to steal today
minutes pass
dormant

a crust of white snow
I must decide
to make something
new