Sweat collecting on
the heel of my right hand
dampens the denim
I remind myself
not to expect friendship
there, that’s better.
Bellevue bus banner
“8 restaurants to choose from”
the pigeon pecks crumbs
The Fourth of July
means nothing to me this year
but thick, rolling booms.
One table, one man
eating a bean from a plate
outside, history
The fire station flag
I place four fingers
to my breast beside my heart
Coltrane touches here
In the room, though not
for a long time, the
kettle on to boil.
He dies quietly
the clamor of before, stilled
one ring on his hand.
Putting on Brubeck,
lying back waiting to die
one whole year passes
These socks I have now
should last a good while; only
a handful of holes
Two old men toe-to-toe
it's like a nightmare
playing over and over in my head
what'd she do?
how'd it happen?
could you feel it down to the last atom?
did you want to die?
why does it matter pequeña? it's over.
because i need to know
i need to torture myself
with guilt and shame and hatred
as i live with the burden of your trauma
so i never forget it's my fault
the first time I remember you, you're blonde and don't love me back.
I wish it stayed that way. but soon You're brunette
and You do. It's the sweetest thing I've ever tasted.
Your brown hair was like hot chocolate in autumn,
wool gloves in the snow,
a candy store in February.
it never occurred to me that
candy rots, gloves get soaked, and chocolate residue
pools at the bottom of mugs like tea leaves.
then, You're a red head with fading freckles and a consuming love.
i stay because i feel responsible.
maybe loving me is just as addicting as loving You.
i stay because that burning is intense, yes, but it
reminds me of past candlelit dinners.
warmth and heat are one and the same, aren't they?
Softly floating around the town,
The snowflakes gently fell
So quiet they scarcely made a sound.
From each delicate lace they were bound
To hold a secret they wished to yell,
Softly floating around the town.
Intricate details carefully wound,
Dirt or blood you could not tell.
So quiet they scarcely made a sound.
Each landed gracefully in a mound,
Hiding the fate that she befell,
Softly floating around the town.
The snowflakes twisted and turned around,
Much like performing for clientele,
So quiet they scarcely made a sound.
With beauty carefully crowned,
i lay there for twenty-two days
wilting
crying
feeling as if i was slowly dying
while still begging for the help that never came
i lay there for twenty-two days before i learned
that help would
never
come
and the stabbing, gut-wrenching pain would
never
end
until i took that knife and killed the soulless creature devouring me
in cold blood
you poor thing
let me hold you as you cry
let me soothe you as you die
you infinitely awful
infinitely suffering
thing
it's sickening the hold you still have on me
when you're nothing but
a rotting corpse,
an empty sack of flesh,
decaying
in the dirt
beneath my feet.
yet i still find myself
trying to limit the mess my ashes make when i burn
trying to quiet my screams as i drown
trying to decide how much i can bleed before i stain the carpet
all because of the lessons i learned
from you.
it's sickening.
sometimes i wish I could erase our memories ,
other times I think they're the only reason why I'm still here
you used to make me wanna live , now you make me wanna die
because without you I could never feel alive
in my mind I wish I could forget
in my heart the memories are all I have left
She is translucent, undaunted in her courage to spike
the ball of conversation one more time
She cannot ignore what she knows, but moves forward anyway.
Nearly six feet tall, she is grounded by the reality of her own disease.
“Not yet,” she cries, “I am not ready for the fall” and takes one more chance
And winning the game herself
She does not know the meaning of the word “teammate”
In her desire to score,
For there is only one moment left
Which is now, nonetheless
What battle can she ferry through
The sand burning her skin as she goes.
Awkward, alive, ambitious
No sickness can stop her drive
Everyone knows but her
She fights to stay illumined
A child holding out, crying out,
Lantern dying, tightly clutched,
The endless night does fast approach;
They fear what lies beyond that ghostly veil.
Fighting the will to disappear
Among the countless grains of sand
Crashing waves against a bunker still
As they do see no more, no more.
Riddled with holes in memories yet to be;
Life flowing from every scratch,
Every fleeting moment passing through,
As the light within does slowly dim.
For what had they held for?
To feel the wind, to see the stars once more?
Perhaps. But that matters little now.
The darkness comes, the darkness comes.
World's gone beautiful;
Yes, the world's gone beautiful.
The flowers bloom
And the sun shines brightly,
While death slowly opens the door.
All we have is time;
Yes, all we have now is time.
Look to the future
While the past lurks nearby,
And we can't tell what'll be in store.
World's gone beautiful;
Yes, the world's gone beautiful.
We count our days
And we count our blessings,
For we don't know we have much more.
It all gets clearer;