Coniferous

I pulled out a fistful of pines
and gargled some green air,
finding ways to pass the time
as nothing changed around me.

Morning

Do you still think all mornings are beautiful
if this morning seems nothing more
than the night painted with gray light,
balancing like a nest on a thin branch?

Waterpark

In the pool there floated a magic carp
who didn't care that my clothes were wet,
and as he wriggled in my heavy arms
a waterfall swept me out of consciousness.

Mr. Gravity

Mr. Gravity tried to make a fool out of me,
and though it sure was nice to feel the ceiling
with my hands, he let me down eventually,
and to be honest I wish we had never met.

God

The morning after everyone's left His house,
God gets to scrubbing His floor, spit-shining
His china and dousing His lot in Spring.
Who could deny such a host as that?

Girl Next Door

If there ever was a girl next door
I would drown the basement in color,
and spend more time on the sidewalk
looking every which way away from her.

Papa

Papa used to squeeze the life out of me
although he never noticed how badly
his alarm clock kept me up at night,
and when he sings in church I hear him.

Family

I have a family who barters with food
in exchange for listening intently
and who worships whatever doesn't change
and I think they love me, too.

Nana

Nana tells me not to sag my pants
because I don't want to get raped
but I still eat her french toast
and wear a hat when she isn't around.

2011 (year of movement)

I breathed January through cotton

Cold as it was and unfit for fanfare

I kept to my script watched carefully

For signs of quivering change that

Refused to be drawn out

But kept clinging to the walls that

Bored me I bought presents and

Forgot them in the closet had no

Use for my own weather when

The skies were so dark

But in Florida the sea rose to meet

The lightning clattering the bells

Announcing March to the ones

Who had no more fear of rejection

And then she said yes

Enter Boston for the first glorious

Time! And all the mystery of my

Days keeping me fiery-eyed and

Fixed upon a life that I lived and

Somehow lost

The eyes of May wide as the woods

I stole away to releasing me from

Myself and all my stoic ways that

Now pay no mind to my increasingly

Erratic patterns

That quilted at first under the spare

Light of the stars in honest love

For you my beautiful other even

Knowing that they would one day

Dwindle and be gone

Even the fireworks of July saddened

Me to the thought that we were no

More than that blinding yes colorful

Like no other but I could not ignore

Your smile more so

It is difficult for me to recall the

More elegant details of August

I was drunk soon as you left and

Little changed for what felt so long

‘Till I returned to Boston

Who ordered this red prison to

Shackle me and who disposed of

My bones in the harbor and why

No matter the way that I try it

Can't I sleep?

It’s clear now I write Bad Poetry

It’s o.k so long as I got my nerve

It’s not so bad in October if you

Close your eyes and picture

Someplace else

But while I was doing that I

Missed the leaves and when

The snowless lawns of home

Failed to fix everything I knew

The choice was mine

So Boston is now my far-coast

Home and the seeds are stale

In the fertile ground I get lonely

Without you and the ocean around

But it’s just my kind