It’s just another day
blurrrrred into the next
Why can’t you come over
and pull me from bed
Take me outside
Get me out of my head
I wanna go outside
and be out of my head
Maybe it’s my job
or staying up late
I always wanna sleep in
for half of the day
So come over here and
bring me down
I know it’s not on you
But I like you around
I’ve been sitting here for years
and I got something to say
I’ll pick up my guitar
And we’ll play all day
I’ve been sitting here for years
And it’s not okay
I’m so tired of letting it all waste away
So I’ll pick up my guitar and we’ll play all day
I’m never gonna let myself waste away
I’m never gonna let this all waste away
Daydreams of art
with brushes and clay
What to create
with free time in the day
To say what’s true
Be expressive and bold
It feels good to repurpose
Something new from the old
We build mountains in our sleep.
Anxiety for a time
Even when they’re no longer around
They show up on Venmo
with their sushi-wine-electric bills,
in forgotten photographs
which flash upon your mind
They appear in fleeting moments
Who the hell
even were they? It doesn’t matter who they are now.
You replaced someone before you, and you’ve long since been swapped out.
You were a face at a party.
A debit card on a split check. A filled seat in an Uber. A name in a group chat. A tag on a photo. A spare bed with your name on it. Your luggage on their floor.
You were there. And there. And there.
But you were never there
To drive away, into the sapphire night, you’re still there.
I shake off another vivid dream. I try and scrub myself clean. The layers that must be peeled off resurface and coil. A picked scab. It shadows over me, a reminder that you’re still there.
An open letter to my trauma: You were a bad friend on the best of days. I held your hand and brought you with me. I didn’t know how else to carry you.
Nausea and coffee and cigarette smoke. I always blamed myself. It was what I wore or what I said. It was mostly what I didn’t say.
I spit you out now. You’ve been chewed up for years. Locking my jaw at what I couldn’t control. I’m not afraid anymore.
I was so young, I didn’t know any better. But I’m not afraid of you anymore.
Black cat crying for the outside,
He’s at the door.
A hawk with a wingspan wide enough,
To shadow the entire day,
Circles above me.
Above the fields that have been cut down,
It happened on a Saturday,
The tractor arrived to tear down the land,
Leaving it to rise again,
And be cut down again, over and over.
I sit on the porch and can see the tree-line now,
So dark beneath the canopy.
A hunter’s tent sits at the edge,
At the border of the forest and field,
Who is inside?
I always wonder.
She drove a 1965 black Thunderbird. Of course she did. In these nightmares, everything is always exaggerated.
It was parked there in the gravel, polished and clean, and then it was gone.
I had only seen her briefly, as we passed each other on the old staircase.
She was younger, prettier, better.
Because that’s what you had told me. Because that’s how you wanted me to feel.
I know she doesn’t exist, at least not anymore. And I know this dream is residual at best.
It haunts me all the same.
I still find myself dropped into versions of that house. Always in an open room, staged, full of people. They whisper about me. They point me out. And then you show up. Last to arrive, first to defend. A routine you’re suited for. Heads or tails, you played them both.
A sparkle in your eye, believing the earth spins in your favor. Barn wood and oak and recycled metal for the taking. A copper penny, a harrowing embrace.
I shake my head because I can’t listen to it anymore. Idea #437, this’ll be the one that really takes off. I had to get away.
And then I got away.
I hope she always gets away too.
Diamond birch beneath blue skies
Sweating in a new time zone
Quicksand settles along the road
taking with it the pains
from back East
As yellow leaves fall around me
I look over the Alaskan range
Its icy peaks can see tomorrow
reflecting some forgotten
Glaciers fall into the sea
Hand in hand
just you and me
We carry ourselves into the wild
finding what was there
The fire reflects back orange-red
Smoky spirals in the air
Crisp breezes lift our tired eyes
To gaze at the starry sky
Northern lights come out above
The dancing teals and greens we love
There’s nowhere else
I’d rather be
Such a terrifying thing it was,
to stand barefoot at the cliff’s edge,
holding your breath as you let go and jumped.
And what a relief it was to swim back to shore,
to climb up again,
and want it once more.
Cold sand, sore soles,
and a thirst for so much more.
We stayed up long after daylight,
our laughter echoed beyond the exterior.
We shed thick skin,
we smiled it out,
heavy bass, synth and singing.
Summers were for us,
our time to let loose,
We unraveled, safe and carefree.
I think about it, from time to time.
Salty breezes brushing over palms and juniper.
like ribbons in the wind.
Can you still picture us together,
under a setting sun?
Humid heat, a wall of fire,
And the nights bring no relief.
A week into dog days,
my fever broke,
Thank the skies,
something gave way.
I opened a window
to cast out lethargy,
self-pity and bad luck.
For the sorrows I carried far too long,
For that burning sense of meaning.
I’ll bury them now in the thick of summer,
Kiss the ground and never look back.
To hear of you, to think of our time,
heavy paws, soft and sharp.
I miss the murmur of your sleep,
I breathed in your drawn out sighs.
I miss the dirt, kicked up and dug,
buried bones below my feet.
I’d unhook your leash,
in the woods we’d run,
pine and birch whipping by.
You’d shake the water off,
leaving prints beside the lake,
on rocks and fossils and fern.
I still hear your clanging,
the slight clink of metal,
tapping between collar and tag.
I still find your fur, in shoes I’ve
forgotten, and holes in chewed up socks.
In my dreams I see you as I always have,
caramel eyes, tall ears to heaven.
To protect and play,
to be loyal and listen.
My girl, you showed me love.
The spring day I met you, held you in my arms,
Sweet girl, I will never let go.
You know you cannot stop the waves,
the moon, the land, or sun,
Winds will carry layers of dust
shores now wash anew.
One day shy
of the month of July
Unwavering currents of honesty
Stand tall, glance back
to see yourself,
everything has changed.
Who are you now without thin veils
and shadows that stay all night?
Who are you now with stolid eyes
still hands and steady thoughts?
You radiate, you always have,
Who will you become?
I’ve lived a thousand lives
and I’ll live a thousand more.
Heavy burning coals,
I carried from your door.
Long years, they passed,
we’ve moved away,
from flames that left a stain.
Another page, another way,
someday we’ll figure out,
why splinters mattered so much so
and headaches all for what?
We’ve circled the sun,
we’ve sweat it out,
We’ve only just begun.
There’s something to be said for those who embrace a long day. The ones who calmly get in their cars to drive the long drive home. Those who take in the road and the dogged thoughts it brings. Jagged ideas of the past and unclear future visions.
Tired eyes, twilight and awe. There’s something to be said for those who inhale the present moment.