Two Years

I am a blank platter.
Free wine, I ate the welcome.
Mad at the bar
Too light, too loud.
Wasted, waiting

A Fresh Start

My mind is very blank.
I want to caress white tiles
To slide my boots

To swallow sterling silver plated trinkets.
There are so many piles.
and gold plated trinkets.

Straining to be upright things.
So many miles of mistakes

Breaking to be organized
It is a sick formation

Remembering The Summer And The Fall That Followed

The art in the woods
The person that I accidentally thought was 37
The roof in the sun.

My stupid black skirt
My broken pin
That I cared about what I looked like
That you're gone.

St. Marks

Last time I was in this church, you were alive
And I sat next to my teacher, who cried
And two women were united
in love
By a priest and a poet,
and the words of a poet gone.

Oh, we watched from the rafters
as the city streamed in,
and a host swept the floor
of flowers
The arranged congregation
preparing to sing,
We gathered our hands
with our hearts
in our chests,
We observed what it means
to belong.

dance

i think that revelry and enjoyment can mask a lot of things.
when the balloons fell
they covered the technology
that hardened them
the analog was then exposed

the substances were mainly in the other corner
from the speakers that doubled as your stage that are preserved with care

in our corner the stage could be exposed

the resourcefulness of a community
whose dance can double as a platform
whose scenery descends
and crashes waiting

...erupting the slow build
the open buffet
three kinds of drink,
endless formations
...exposed to heaven

Leeds (Extended)

I was a collapsed barn
All you saw were the wisps of bent hay
Floating around my temples
signal flares for a pacified angel

My eyeballs
turned patient in their sockets
summer, sulking
While sentimental gossips poked them back ahead
Exacting straws, needled from firm dirt that lifting cracks
Shaggy roots that crumble padded
suffocating in the laboring sun
to possibly be drenched again and run into the river
pointing and deliberate
The grasses wept
From another point of view,
it all looked soft

Crickets are another man's silence
The barn boards have old nails in them
so put your shoes on
The treasure is only plastic from the seventies
The emerald is only a wet stone

Programming

The loud voice
The promises
Cold carpet, bad coffee
Packeted
emoji Functional
Meet at night and at 5:30
push to
Metadata, bad boundaries

I fly to fairy plays
and queer rainbows that are real
courtyards

Say her name.

Gather scripted
Gated elevators
Custom command
Revise
Cry