May 27

Orange Flower Water

May 23

Artisan Textiles

I’m obsessed with words,
scratching mental letters into threaded blue jeans,
squeaky wooden table tops,
barren midnight swaths of bed sheets soaked in ink:

A cloth woven on a mental loom,
frameworks of English threaded with fine threads of phrases,
each spun of intertwining tufts of verbage
dyed to minute vibrancy by the arrangement of 26 simple shapes.

The cloth often likens to a photograph, 
broken down to pixels,
numbered quantities of red, green, and blue.
The visual cloth of
symmetrical water or geometric fire:
Language of paradoxical symbolism,
existing in the Duat of expression at once
sliding in and out of focus with the earth.
A conceptualization of a pinch of the world.

Music is woven of many materials,
of flowing vibrations which conjure
engraved images of sparotic movement;
a soaring dance of invisible energy.
Mar 29

Grains of Midnight

I've hidden from the darkness,
twisting, pulsing,
sifting terrifying grains of 
demonic color,
overlaying something deeper than black.

Glowing dust-shadows,
screaming stairs.
Throbbing sounds,
mental sand paper on my sanity:

Apocolyptic chaos in a handryer.
Screams of fury from the mouth of the vacume.

World falling from it's axis,
a golf ball knocked of it's tee,
two inches.

Yank out the cord,
cover the ears.
Shut your eyes.

I've embraced the darkness,
twisting, pulsing,
sifting fascinating grains of 
exsquisite color,
overlaying something deeper than black.

Stars, pin point-notes
of an unfathomable concerto.

Hand-melting snow,
a raw passion of thawing life.
Feb 24
poem 2 comments challenge: Love

Charging My Heart

Something is clogging up
the writing part of my brain,

the part with twists and grooves
like my willowy, grainy cursive,

with my experiences carved in,
and emotions painted like a mural.

The blue magnetic electricity which whizzes between letters,
down through my veins,
and into my key-clicking hands,

dropping words of air and water,
earth and fire, onto the screen.

This lightning is weakened,
building slowly for weeks,

to release one small poem.

For the electricity now takes a different path,
through the arteries,
to the heart.

I know it's there when you look at me,
and I have to bite my lips to keep from smiling.

Or when you say hello,
and I have to sweep over the surface of your eyes,
to avoid getting lost.

I've only used your name once,
almost yelled it,
almost running.

To me,
Feb 07
poem 0 comments challenge: Love

Wild Weather

Please don't cry, 
I don't want those tears
to freeze on your face.

I wish I could protect you better,
If I was fully in this place,
If I wasn't so scared
to challenge fury to a race.

But some cloud has taught me 
to drown myself before I cry,
and I've forgotten how not to
look away while saying goodbye. 

I'm sorry if my hugs
come with fists clentched in pain,
and I want you to know,
some day I'll shut off the rain.

I promised I wouldn't leave you,
when I held your hand in the car,
though somedays I run astray,
I promise it isn't far.

I know you'll have some memories
I wish I could erase,
but I hope time will filter through,
and replace.

Jan 18

My Star is Dust

I'm not the type of person who overtly shows their emotions,
crying, even in front of family,
is intensely humiliating.

I feel vulnerable,
thrown on the pavement and scraped to the bone,
I fear anyone who sees my wound 
will stab me right in it 
preventing me from healing.

Even with those I trust the most.

I do feel,
Often very strongly,
it's just not always in the way people expect.

But I don't like reveling in my emtotions,
I hide them too often,
and sometimes they become too intense;

They flare like a dying star
(though almost silently, of course)
and collapse into a black hole within me,
seeming to suck all thoughts, ideas, feelings
Into one charged speck of space,

Til every movement feels like a chemical reaction,
and I have to do something
or explode
(literally and metaphorically)
Jan 18


Jan 10

Holding Back the Sea with a Piece of Paper

I smile through a the wall of tears behind my face,
holding the fragments of composure
across a a river of sadness.
Why does it have to be this way?

A portion my life has been shredded, 
I can't see them that way ever again.
This is what they were hiding?
Is this what they are?
How could they?

They tore you apart 

You were forced to piece yourself together,
pull your fragments up while the floor fell away.
I hold mine to comfort,
your efforts were self protection,
and all you ever got was dismissal and shame.

How did you come out the other side,
without terrible bruises?

They were there,
they blossomed from anger and misunderstanding,
but the purple has long faded.

The only traces are left on your heart,
but when they're nudged,
the pain comes leaping back.

So I keep my face calm,
taking this bitter gift,
Jan 06

Time Capsule

A time capsule doesn't enclose,
it preserves,
waiting to tell of other times.

It's contents are concealed 
In the crackling layered leaves
on the forest floor,
An old metal chest
in the atic,
Or a sprawl of rust red barns,
beneath the autum mountains.

The treasures are worn,
each scratch a memory,
each dent a keepsake,
forming time's universal writing,
it's poetry,
raw yet beautiful.

To reserve indefinitley,
to lock away from birth under glass,
would be to deprive of it's life,
of it's story.

What value 
has an antique
that has never been part
of the time it represents?

So could we tread on tip toe 
across life,
eating only the purest of foods,
moving cautiously to reserve our strength,
shying from chances 
like a horse from the unexpected,
reserving all for the future.
Jan 01


​I know this recording is horrible, I'll make a better one when I have more time.

When a white, popular, male nearly runs into me...​again.​

​I'm a person here.
​Which, in case you didn't know,
​means you can't
walk through me.

​Oh sure,
people say you're just oblivious,
​oblivious to other people's humanity?
Your "advantages" don't make you superior.

​They aren't "advantages" or superiorities.
​You were born white?
So was I.
​Nothing special.
​The people who aren't deserve your respect
​just as much as I do.
​(though your aren't giving me any).

You have tons of friends,
​good for you!
​But did you get them by making racist, sexist, and who knows what else jokes?
​By swaggering and dismissing anyone "not cool enough"?