i don't know how you feel
with the clouds above your
 teeth and a pocket full of 
                      insecurities 

to i, the world seems a little
better with you in it, seems like
life finally makes sense:
     perfectly symmetrical, totally
                                       uneven.

                                                                               &

something BAD happened on Varga Road
    (i           can           feel               it)

on my way 
home from an
evening hike
the asters gently
rub against my 
sharp ankles
as both legs
make their way


milkweeds as
tall as me

roads with no lines, only dirt

can't distinguish which way to go 
between the Old Oak     & the 
Creepy Sunflower Farm 

     i cannot see for what feels like
days, the thick haze 
   that lies over the cornfields
as the morning sun gently rests
  before she makes her way

a set of human eyes, faintly drawn
in the fields 
   continues to follow me as i walk
down Varga Road 

an orange hue,
  oblique sky,
amethyst filled 
clouds float by:
a definition of 
an ashen 
morning
sky

old phone notes 

I haven't smiled in a while 

   so it's cool. Watch out for the dog

Drool , all over my Antique Carpet. 

The one my great grandmother 

made back in the age of wheat sewing 

and lazy Suzanne's. 

My feet , only my toes, in the pool. 

My eyes sink to the blue bottom

While my legs wait for you 

to carry me far, far away. 

I already need some more vodka ,

I just ate the last sushi roll. 

Don't be fool , and don't fall for her. 

She has a soul of

A demon and 

my great 

grandmother’s 

               Antique Carpet.

i used to live where children would run free

they would dance to the trees music and 

laugh as big as the world. 

you would see flowers taller than thee, 

grass here never got mowed. 

and the stars, at night, would glow

 an amethyst purple. rocks stacked 

while the river flows.