from a porch, i’ve been missing something

we sat in front of him again today

cross legged and not knowing where to start

he looked at you first

i got there before you

it was too cold outside to wait

he offered me coffee

i went with water

we rehashed

less energy, more apologies

damp eyes from embarrassment

we know the answers

he corrects our work

a little more abstract than filling bubbles

it’d be easier


a) we walk out, bicycle, tricycle, tetr… we keep spinning

b) we continue, visiting the observer in-between his own disaster life moments

c) staring endlessly past sticky situations we seek doorways and pass through rooms furnished by fear and triumph towards a middle-road wondering what would come next, we wind through forests filled with conifers, breeze blowing pine needle scents into our sense of what love smelled like, what love meant, when we first rushed past intimidations and felt nothing but freedom

flourishing fresh flowers filling our sandals with forevers promise

you promised

my only fear didn’t exist


we only exist

to exit

this minotaur maze with nothing but a backpack strapped firmly to our shoulders, filled with desires, eyes of fire, fully blown souls, never to tire

d) none of the above

you didn’t read past “a”

i was lost in a daydream

he stood up, and walked away

*art by 11 year old Amelia Meyer

from a hotel bed, the privilege to consider prestige


thoughts take up daylight clouding my vision and fading the only thing i have to hold onto

but she is lying

i know that

perfectly packaged material arrives everyday strategically shared to paint a picture.

i’m the emotional artist

get out of my studio and save the sales pitch for the finger fuck suit down the hall who sips steady shots of alcohol (he knows them all) and i can’t twist anymore with these images of time left open and the draft that came through only kept me in the know of what travesties you were trying to take back from the waking world reality we all live in

those were my words

the ones you carefully jotted in a notebook for everyone to see

those were my words

the ones i flung out before considering drenched in a tear filled raw exchange of exactly how i was feeling

i feel

you think

throw the fucking last years in with the kitchen sink

here it all comes

how do i get your attention to see the world isn’t planned and pleated, written and deleted

before presentation

my walk is my pitch

i will never switch to save my own face

i could care less what i look like

honesty is ugly

the roots dig deeper and i become immovable

there’s a breeze

i sway

you break

good bye

from bed, tied up and twisted

i hope you’re well

starts most greetings i type

words that i spell

fastened to the intention that i wish i didn’t have to wish anymore

that you weren’t splayed out on gummy bathroom tile floors

wishing for the door to stay locked as you drift away

a wish your forefingers bought, caught, and forgot with bulging eyes between ill-willed hand shakes dancing with short black skirts

eyes alert

surprises divert my attention to your smiling arms

wrapped tightly

i watch from afar

you swing away

finding stones to kick down alleys where you’ll lay

i write you notes

quick sidestep quotes

from our shared sunday morning’s sipping tea with clarity when your stumbling words brought hilarity

and i didn’t have to wish

you were there




from bed, we’ll rise to their surprise

stand still

look around

focus on where the measure of a human is found

resting in dew drops dripping through fall leaf furls, cascading over ripples, rolling from red to yellow, finally forming a single tear




soaked into story telling soil, spreading and climbing up spindly dendrites sucking to stay alive, splitting paths to where the needs reside


the rain stopped yesterday, dry air deadened our breath

we had enough to sustain

for a few hours

until we fell on crackling brown leaves lifting powder black dust passionately puffed into plumes signaling our demise

the formation and rise of a phoenix bringing rain

a chance to love again

from bed, we’re there while they’re here

when did we stop watching fireflies fade during summer nights spent spinning in circles shrouded by stunned emotions holding tightly to the thoughts that we were alone in parks where patrons left hours before leaving us to wade in shallow water, splashing the day’s leftover innocence on one another’s goose bumped flesh cleansing the marks left from the quiet deaths their judgements marked while widened dreams danced off our lips sucking away every desire of a new day while we held the night tight drifting out of sight from the oglers need to be where we were meant to be tripping away from the pain deserted pathways overgrown from knowing it wasn’t the way.

from bed, another year older

holding back the hoards of train wreck images throbbing through my synapses swerving to avoid truthful touches while trying to stay on track

words in patterns switched around

happy birthday

blow out your years, wash your hands, and keep bending love lust life language to meet the needs of friends who bare their souls searching for common goals during southern winters spent muscling shoals to the shore.

no magic needed

we created more and fed one another.

let the caboose fly off the track while we dead-aim attack with box cars clashing and engine thrashing every destructive picture gets ripped in two flying in pieces left in grey smog hue.

we can’t look back

we must look within

steady our speed

as we begin again.

from bed, sometimes sphinx rest in the middle

the pharaoh didn’t walk alone

on that gilded sand

legions of weak dreams followed her around

fading away to a blur

still strong enough to stir the breath of fresh water waiting for warmth in the morning stream of thought that hadn’t occurred without the jarring distant discontented sounds breaking on our painstaking turn to burn the love we adjourn without acknowledging the slight differences between us

i’m not stunned anymore


she confronted me as i stumbled with squinting eyes searching for answers to the riddle stranded in the middle of barren emotions balanced on the line of where we’re going and where we went


she’s waiting for me

on that gilded sand

leading me to the land of tomorrow’s memories

from bed, bath, and walking upstairs – traffic was heavy

stranded and willing

copper plated evening attire drew me to you and kept us circulating thoughts of wonder and tragedy.

the way we started

moving in circles with motion to sense our lack of control the way we hid in remote locations and occasions of caution with the stream line left to linger on a wandering night through blowing sand and dead elf wishes when cruising through the forest was easier than waking through gilded rooms of gold and silver wishes

deciding it was you who would lose themselves in grafted family trees where it was meant to be

i shouldn’t have been drawn to you

magnetic malice blew through the door halting progress passing through conduits dreamt up by our lost lips remembering the taste of penniless moments dreaming we could be coated again to pass freely to one another’s passions

from bed, a love poem: beer, fear, and drawing you near

my fist crashed through the beginning of a precipitous night bash

a pyramid equation, century club persuasion, fifty-four cans, ten at the base, that’s quick math, and, believe it or not, this isn’t a blood bath

it’s a love poem

lenses were stirred

eyes fixed in one motion, i was next to you

a soft hushed walk home, i was with you

listening to bob and tongue-tangled blue time lapse, i was in you

pants went up

my anticipation and perseveration flew

was hello a goodbye?

breakfast fare late in the night, catching friends entangled in new sight, and our hips were locked

challenged, not judged, and free

we shot darts and moved across country

you stood in light and laid with me in frost bitten-faulty fragile nights



left open


work, accomplish, and build

they came

one at a time

found ourselves in the daily grind

we shed our baby fat

calling forth new life

two became three, became four, and built to more as we raced around the country

i remember when you first painted your face

thirty-two years into life

i thought mine was over

we changed


gathering steam to pound back across states to find a place where we would rest


you listened and touched the words falling with frailty from a mouth designed for wishing away time and wondering ‘what if?’ daily

i don’t do that anymore

you’re in store

for fifty-four more

the cans were recycled in stories for the ones we tell time with

every touch of morning you’re the one i rise with

pyramids confirm you’re who i wonder with

wander with

devour life with

and who i’ll cease physical pleasure with

leaving this language of our own for others to decipher

a common logical qualifier