Concrete Towers

War’d weathered feet, come stomping sideways up the green cliffs.
We didn’t think to find the solemn giggles here.
The cave puffs’ it’s ignorance, so shallow in the cove.
The flighted breath under canopy , from clouds to the throne.
Sweet dragon roll momentum, the blue plate something to peer for.
Royalist ground pepper fits underneath the sticks; so humble to be tuned.
Dialed with crumb fingers and dry mouth, the worth beaming from concrete towers.

Cooking my Insides

My tears that slope the curved hills are salted with joy and spiced with purpose. They water the songs of my skin with notes of ranged oblivion. 
My breath tends my internal city, cooking to perfection.
Oxygen steams the veintables;my bones saturate in flavored fat

and I morph into
celebrating chef. 

 

Spin me Home

Stealthy mobility drips down my forearms and onto the tulips I planted two months ago.
Haze catches in my throat and blurs my vision
I am blue, I am orange, I am every colour you thought I wasn’t six months ago.

I bloomed a sense of indecency and wrote a pile of suns to play with and you watched me dig the hole of nusiance
and I did and put in my garden gloves and hat you always loved for me to wear.

I am a trusted spoke of a wheel of one hundred
and I hope for you to spin us all the way reverse;
back the way we came so that we can trample all the ugly and make new
our beauty.
Make us dizzy in love.

Inevitability

The gloss in the sun blinds me golden
while the threads of my voice sew silk.
I am the galaxy I create
and I shuffle stars to extraordinaire
against the backdrop of humanity
to coat in luxury
the inevitability
of my scarf of impurity.

The tender souls of the world I fall for
but with my tools of knitting, I have a net.
I am the safety I own
and I hot glue satellites to my kingdom
as I braid my strands of ability
and breathe a sensibility;
the inevitability
of the common beauty.

 

Four Years Ago: BAM

Well I have to post it.

Every year I likely will.
It’s not something you just forget.

Four years ago today, I found out
I was going to be a Mama.

I still have the candle holder I peed in when I found out.
I made it back into a candle. Not with my pee.
But wax. And
not from my ears.

I don’t ever light it though.
It sits on my dresser and when I look at it,
it reminds me how crazy it is,
that pee can tell you
that you’re carrying an eventual living human bean person in your belly.