Today everything
is making me nostalgic
for something else. Sigh.
There was the thing so
beautiful it made me sad and
I cried for awhile.
He said he was
perfectly content before he was born;
death was the same.
He was with me all
night and I reached over to
see if he was real.
I love her so much you
will have no choice, but to
love her like I do.
We only have what's
right in front of us. That's all
we know and that's rad.
The sky was so dark,
but the clouds were so bright I
could see them at night.
It was grey, cold and
I could smell mold. Like what
David Lynch might've wrote.
I couldn't make my
phone work. I walked the block and
thought of a poem.
The man in the book
died and careless of the crowd
I cried for his loves.
She licked my face and
then pulled my hair right before
she latched on my breast.
It's true. I'm an easy
lover. I'll break your heart,
but you won't feel it.
Barkeep: gin, soda.
Now that you know me, I'll
have that every time.
As I looked at that
mother and child I saw every
mother and child.
I'm not a poet.
Just a simple girl who likes
to look at her world.
He had a classic
car and really liked drinking
cold beers on the porch.
When the animals
start acting strange you can always
look to the moon.
I can't say how it
tasted, smelled but I remember
loving that day.
It was hot. The air
dry. The windows open. The
sky's stars dark and clear.
This same time each year
I wait and wait and wait for my
husband to trick me.
Precious, sacred babe
snuggled to my breast. Smell
her skin. This is trust.
Thank you, Mother Goddess,
for my eggs, abundance
and the lives that grow.
Last night I heard the
train and it sounded like hands
gripping, feet jumping.
My friend said to
elope's to run with no place in
mind. So romantic.
Everyday you
surprise, intrigue, excite me. I
fall in love again.
Love is a losing
game, but in like the best
possible way ever.
The neighbor boy holds
his lady's waist as he walks
her to the bus stop.
We're all worthy.
Whether we like each other or not.
Every soul's gold.
A girl caught me
talking to myself, then I caught
someone else. It's cool.
Far from me now,
we'll be together soon. For now,
love me from afar.
Love's the only thing
in this goddamned world that
matters, remember that.
I can't stop looking
at the words on the paper.
They're so beautiful.
I'm infected with
love. I'm infectious near you.
I want you to grow.
It's when we are full
of doubt that we must open
our hearts and just love.
Some days the hill is
just too steep to climb, so I
sit and rest awhile.
It's so nice to look
at your face. Your eyes, your lips
beg for some kisses.
The depths of the
sea, the infiniteness of the
sky, it's all so grand.
Love for yourself makes
you bearable. Love for others
makes life bearable.
Pop said once, "Reality
is only half of life
therefore we dream."
On one side the clouds
were white, the other black and
between they were grey.
Sometimes the squeaky
wheel doesn't need grease. You might
just need a new wheel.
Some days my feet feel
like roots in the ground. Others
they feel light as clouds.
He waited for her
to walk away and then he yelled,
"I love you, beautiful!".
She was afraid of
what she saw in the box. Scared
she'd see her future.
Yes, Michelle shocked, but
Michelle sad, lonely and
kinda confused, too.
You won't know where she's
going or been. Her whole life
she's ridden the wind.
It's when I think
nothing else better could happen
that that's when it does.
We're all just
characters in a never-ending
play about ourselves.
"Recollecting what
he did not want to remember,
he frowned again."
-Leo Tolstoy, Anna Karenina
I read a letter
from a friend that made me
nostalgic for letters.
It is said that a
good friend is hard to find and
that saying is true.
There the sun sets so
quickly and here it sets so
very, very slow.
That age old soul
searching drama of the robot who
longed to be human.
Sometimes the truth
doesn't hurt. Sometimes it's just
really, really funny.
There's this way he holds
his arms when he smooths the back
of his hair. Smokin'.
While I've no hope for
society I have the
highest hopes for you.
I read that Frank Lloyd Wright
said, "Space is the breath of art."
and then I cried.
I'm 33. It's
2013. I'm not old.
I'm brand spankin' new.
Today's a perfect
day. I think the gods are
thanking me for being.
I think that I've met
every feeling and then I
meet a couple more.
The clouds in the sky
are like poetry. Poems
written just for me.
I don't know if you
know this, but the stars are big
and bright in Texas.
His words swimming in
my head, so powerful, I
couldn't sleep a wink.
The sun shining is
so bright our shadows look like
the blackest, dark night.
The sun behind the
clouds at day looked like the moon
behind clouds at night.
Moved so by his
graceful stride she hardly noticed
the rest of the world.
The climb to the top
is long and hard, but, once there,
the view is gorgeous.
Too much social media
make my brain all melty,
me anti-social.
A bottle just dropped
and shattered, but I still heard
it over this crowd.
I feel Rapunzel's
pain. The weight of that hair like
the weight of the world.
I keep listening,
because he makes the small things
sound so elegant.
Sometimes I feel like
everyone I know I don't
really even know.
Sweet memories in
my mind of time not captured on
Instagram or Vine.
Life is a series
of "oops"es and "yaaaay"s just one
after another.
I put that corn out
for that dern crow and he
didn't even eat it!
I fancy myself
royalty, but I'm really
just a peasant girl.
He told her, "The way
you do something is the way
you do anything."
Today I just want
to drink hot toddies and
giggle at my husband.
And Jesus came to
the people and said, "Use
this Vine app. It rules."
When I finally
surrendered my will to the world
I felt much better.
The way he speaks of
meadows I want to wade through
them, float on the leaves.
Baby plays and
pulls at sister's hair like sister
plays and pull at mom's.
I always let him
do the pegging in cribbage.
I love him that much.
Each time I woke the
night sky turned more and more orange
before turning blue.
That picture of you,
that thing you said tells me so
much of who you are.
My dad had said once,
"Reading O'Connor is like
being in prison."
I want your hands on
my hips and I want my fingers
running through your hair.
That day when he'd cut
down all the vines, it's like he'd
cut off all my arms.
The best thing we can
teach our children is every
person's valuable.
The show's always
about to begin, half-way
through and almost over.
Damn, Day, you're all like
sunny, warm and the crows are
singin' and shit's sweeeeet.
I could hear wind chimes
outside the window. They sounded
like they were cold.
The river she's hard
and soft, beautiful and not,
everything to me.
Birds, roses, misty and
cool. Grey, dogs, lovers holding
hands while they walk home.
I look into the
future with my man and then
look to see his smile.
As Winter slips
away Spring's arms are open and
slowly take me in.
I'm writing a
super scary poem, 'cause my
daughter thought I should.
My baby smells of
warm, plump, pink skin, momma's milk
and fresh ground coffee.
Your heart may be black
or sparkly pink, but, damnit,
least you still have one!
Spring is brilliant, but
the way he tells of it Heaven
couldn't compare.
