Bread

I am not an anarchist 
Fed lines, I met the welcome 
Lost at the airport, left at mourning 
Neighbors kneading now

Prints

are icons are falling as
personal memories rise.
rain, trembling in a container.
over doing nothing for the past.

we are new.
we are not sad, we are shells.
nothing counts.
the day is long and light.
curves around us, into
us, as us

curves slow, maybe
missed, may be
we recite ourselves.

up, palms grit on the old ground.
we don't press our faces down.

we convene (and leave)
It means nothing.

nothing counts
more than now 

z-index

I miss having enough ways with my body
Ways that come with days of spacing
Seconds
Decidedly not there
Deplorably numb

A space attunement estuary

I like
Setting off
Infinitely more than I like
Heading back

An underwater antelope
Faded routine
My unappreciated offering

I like
Giving out
More than I like
Giving up

Sharing

I stepped inside of you
To see myself
Instead, you may have 
Poured over my body
angles and shadows
orbs and blurs

Alone in the corner
Of your stoic apartment
Lost at the airport
Locked out

a paper on the ins and outs

<span><p>writing. is it sane?</p><p>is it good?</p><br /><p>putting something down</p><br /><p>picking up</p><p>where we left off</p><br /><p>a million ways to see it</p><br /><p>now, moving less, less</p><p>time</p><br /><p>now</p><p>returning</p></span>

Prospect Park

Limiting belief:
I don't deserve love

Reframe:
Sometimes the sunlight is sharpest 
when colors are flat and dull

The pond and grass pierce my heart 
because they are all in green,
nothing standing out over the other 
and it makes me gasp

My breath goes out into it
the green-yellow

My skin the same
non-color as the pond

It's that light could be so different everyday
That this once has never been described
And never will be again

What I See

Justice
Is not something
you disagree with strongly
but
Anger is something you disagree with
Strongly but
Not bodily but
Habitually because
Of fear of loss
Of violence because
Of injustice
Done to you