May 18

River Rain


She whispers the weather
to you in class
through clenched teeth.
Something about winter
and rain. 

You know how warm the sun
is and how summer rain
feels like a mild shower
but she doesn’t seem to notice
and pulls on extra jackets
and boots for outside.

You knew she was sensitive. 

You hug her to keep her warm
and proceed to get rained on  
in the process:
water droplets radiate
from her hood. 

You like the way
the water clings to her eyelashes
and dampens her cheeks.
“It’s just some rain” she concludes
quietly and so sure of herself.

You know before
she was just afraid
of too much water 
all at once. 
So much
she probably
couldn’t find her feet. 

You know you’re just afraid
of losing her
to the raging river
and the deep mud
that clouded your pond out back. 
May 17

The Great Drop

Some days 
I feel like I'm falling apart
at the edges.

Like every breath
I pull in is on the verge of tears. 

Some days I feel like the ocean
could drop right
on top of my head
and it would still feel better than this.

At least I would know why I was drowning. 

It happens more often now
where my overwhelming happiness
is stolen; washed away
so suddenly I don't even catch a glimpse 
of the attacker. 

It's like some part of me has been squeezed out. 
 Sometimes you save me. 
Other times I just let my self sink. 
 

May 17

Daffodils

May 14

Buttercup

May 10

Night Swimming


1.
Today I listened to the wind. 
The kind of listening that takes over
all senses.
It washed me away. 

2.
Overwhelming. The way it starts to breathe for you.
As. If. You. Might. Drown. 

3. 
You look like you might have been swimming. 
But you never admit to loving the river enough to skip school.
I ask to join you next time. 

4. 
You don't respond.

5. 
I know you laugh like the sun. 
It's hard not to notice. 
"Wishing for unforgiving things is sometimes dangerous." 

I told you
how much it means to me, living with the tides.

6.
I know it's like you said the first night I swam in the dark
"Darkness is only a by-product
of something too sunken to name."
I wish I could tell you
I knew what that meant. 

7. 
I wish I could tell
you 
I know the difference
between darkness and water. 

May 10

Loving You

It's like laying down 
fruit and pebbles 
in a basket;
like running on eggs;
curtained shadows 
in a lost stream 
of thought. 

It's like falling up. 
Like dancing
in swolen circles.

Like rubbing off 
a purple tone 
from shriveled flowers.

It's tinder waiting 
for fire. 

I love you for the stars
and never the tide. 

 
May 08

Window Breathing

May 03

Raining Conversation

"Do you like the rain?"

"What kind
of question is that?" 

"I don't know,
I was just curious..." 

"okay"

"okay"

"Yes,
I like it...
of course I do." 

"It's like breathing?" 

"exactly" 




Recently I have started writing poetry I call "Dialogue Poetry".
It's a poem where two people are talking back and forth.
Sometimes there is a face attached to the other side of a Dialogue Poem
and sometimes it's just a voice.
Other times I'm watching from afar, not involved in the conversation at all... 
Other times I'm in another person's body. It's expiremental and fun. 
May 01

The 5 Best Things


Today at school 
we were asked to list
the five best things about life. 

It came quickly to me,
the way I love the world 
and the way it fits
into my head is complete.
Like the way a river fills up its banks. 

1) Laughing 
I like the way it forms
in my mouth.
The way it's smooth on my tounge.
Bubbly and overwhelming.

I could laugh in my sleep if I knew how...
sometimes I think I do,
in dreams maybe. 

It's like breathing honey.

2) The Rain 
It falls every night
before I close my eyes. 
I think

I like the way
it slides down the window,
quietly,
tears from the clouds. 
But I'm sure it's not because they're lonely. 

I like the way it sounds 
on the roof. 
The way it puts me to sleep. 

3) People
It's hard to explain
the way others complete me.

But it's living 
Apr 24

Being Alive

I like to lie in bed each night
and listen to my breathing.

I like to savor the way
the air pulls so easily
in and out of me
like it was made to be the tide
instead of my life. 

I listen to the street sounds
and the way the whole world
slows down
with each passing hour.

It's the way the rain sounds
on the roof
or the way the candle flickers
against my walls,
tracing shapes of long lost memories.

Times when breathing
wasn't something I had to worry
about continuing.

Times when running
was a normal act of life
and not something made for saving it. 
 

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