I am from a hungry sun unsated
from sewer smoke and old trees
I am an eviction notice swept
into yesterday's trash.
(but it's okay,
nothing lasts forever:
everything is changing
and the sidewalk tastes
of past lives.)
I am from burnt coral pine needles -
dug into the soil
clawing, rooting into
ageless thighs
forever in a dream
an old static VCR loop
where we stayed
forever by
the lake.
I am from old
new farms,
(quiet ghosts
weeping in the
rafters,
and
family photos)
attic-squatting:
never coming
home.
peeling paint
trembling apartments
creaking floors
dirt driveways
sparkling water
couch made of wine stains
home made of humans
forest of suns -
(there are faces
in-between,
blurred photographs
and burning meteors
in a shoebox
made of steel.
I keep it this way,
so we're always
together.)
YOU ARE READING
soft light
Poetryi just want to feel okay again. poems written circa 2017-2020. what a wacky time to exist. if a lot of these seem unhinged it's probably because most of them were written while i was in a very abusive relationship. tw for occasional themes of addict...
