Summer Rains

poetry

Summer rains are so easy to forgive

Not a hindrance, but worn as an accessory for the evening.

A soothing pitter-patter on the windshield

A slightly inconvenient sprinkling that only adds more character to the night.

Or a welcome gift to our lawns and gardens:

The hallelujah afternoon downpour:

All watered and cooled–

the air fresh with verdure and petrichor;

A passing spell,

The whisper of Nature’s mercy,

A moment of weakness in the heavens,

A minor fracture in the sky,

A brief, cathartic sob 

We receive with tempered joy–

Summer rains are so easily forgiven. 

Letters from the Poets’ Loft

poetry

Let’s wear shittier clothes
and drink more coffee

Let’s eat peanut butter
and dust the bookshelves haphazardly

Let’s define “darkened luster”
and bleed our hearts

Let’s lose another dulling pencil
and another night’s sleep

Let’s take a stroll around the block
and step in Siamese tandem

Let’s look for poetry in crowded rooms
and the unanticipated sideways symmetry of pinball flippers

Let’s fix our gazes no further
and retire to an away place

What Remains 

poetry

Is there any poetry left in you?

Do shadows of words still flit behind your eyes?

Or are the pills what make this shade of magenta?

Have you found every synonym for a good idea?

Where is the mile-marker for too far?

Was this July anochecer born of the bloody, nutrient-rich placenta of yes?

Blackened heels and soles trodden barefoot over someone’s unswept apartment floor–

Black coffee balcony nicotine mornings and

Half-watched movie, impromptu cider nights,

Black ring around the eyes, yesterday’s

Makeup precariously in tact

Tell me,

After one week of our Ted Hughes, shitty shoes, never lose synthetic Bohemia,

Do you have any poetry left in you?

Dandelion Love

poetry

I am the sun
I am canary song
and summer lawns

My core is fractal yellow
A cosmic burst
bright as the light on the other side

hollow-stemmed and soft to the touch

I am everywhere

bitter-smelling
quick-wilting
hard-fighting
and irritating

If you’re fool enough to love me
and tired enough to welcome me
I will only get worse

I propagate myself as a constellation corpse
and by the second-thought wishes of passerby’s

capricious winds
capricious whims

and before you know it

I am everywhere

It wasn’t supposed to end like this

poetry

It wasn’t supposed to end like this—
It was supposed to be a civil nod of the head
A conciliatory, halfhearted hug
And promises that we won’t forget—
because we won’t—
and that, in the end, it would all be OK.

Well-wishes for the next leg of the journey
with wistful smiles
and mutual respect—
Acting like the good people we both are.

It wasn’t supposed to end like this,
what sorrow.

To Live Like This

life

If you’re going to live like this, there are some things you should know:

You are going to fuck up. Often. People are going to question you. Often.
You are going to take their advice with a grain of salt.
You are going to prove them right. Often.
And then
You are going to prove them wrong.
And all you need to do is prove them wrong once
to emerge a hero, with a tale, a lesson, an experience that they will covet.
That they will exalt. They will tell the tale far and wide,
even though they were on the sidelines, giving their warnings  and crying foul,
because you fuckin’ did it.
You will be remembered.

You will have to fight against instinct.
You will refuse to acknowledge fear.
There will be fear.
And it means nothing.

You will not live to be scared.
You will not live to be proper.
You will not live to be OK.
You will live for the journey.
You will live for the tragedy and the suspense and the miraculous and the uncomfortable and the astounding and the unanticipated and the glorious.
You will live for the best.
And you won’t be left wondering.

You might not live without regrets,
but you won’t regret regretting
because, damn,
it will be amazing.

Predator (Siren Series)

poetry

I breathe you in like water
You rush through me and out of me:
a tickle at my ear.

I hum a tune that is faint and purple
wandering.
You barely notice that you notice me.

You will try to ignore it,
fight to push it out of your mind,
but you won’t stop listening.

I sing honey liquid notes
so soft
you’ll hear whatever you want to hear

You will find yourself
ever closer to me.
Returning to
the perfumed air around me:
Sweet lotus blossom
salty ocean breeze
paranormal pheromone.
Intoxication inevitable.

You will find bliss,
you will lose yourself,
and I will take you there.

If you come closer,
I will breathe you in like water and
We will rush through me,
together,
no more pain.