pulling thistle

someone will question love,
your love,
and anything inbetween

it is true, pure,
an unconditional fever
with heavy
grounding roots
anchored to the center of the earth

full of sprouts

no longer question
I am still sitting alone in the garden
listening to your girlfriend

Avoid the red,
put on
occasional glasses
and stare at the scenery
avoid the ugly feelings
point to the flowers;
the trees,
and listen to what isn’t human

Let’s dance

not photogenic gene

one day all of the words that I knew
turned into a person’s name
and the world got smaller
scratching an itchy bug bite
has never felt so satisfying
false idols plague the news
while I drink wine and
try to convince my worried mom
that my brother isn’t too thin in that picture

she shouldn’t worry
I look at the picture and try to see it from her point of you
maybe he did something weird,
something that he regrets,
maybe he’s going through something
responded with a no

we’re all going through something
but really nothing
it’s just thoughts

a visual

Eventually I won’t
go to that kitchen again,
live in this country,
this town,

It all passes
especially the sadness
I will learn that
when I gently walk away

Leaving things better than they were
water the garden
tend the rosemary
it’s more difficult to heal

first summer

aftershocks of a hurting pattern,
I will not let it continue to bother me
My eyes feel sensitive, soft at the edges
Everyone is in a relationship and laughing
justify, simplify,
the solitude
the way I rub coconut oil over my body
jump in the lake
swim to the dock
climb up the ladder
and flatten my body
over the heated wooden square
in the middle
of promised ripples
I gain the energy
to swim back

flashing light phone call

I carefully dissect my arm, and legs,
examine the bruises, black scrape marks,
a tattoo that I had forgotten that I experienced,
Laying by the lake with spanish guitar
the sun about to set
my neighbors lying next to a pile of young girls on a hammock

the universe is trying really hard; showing off
this girl must feel satisfied,
crack a smile
Be grateful goddammit
there is so much beauty
the grass is even trying to tickle the seriousness

the mindfield
A hill too steep to climb, they should put an escalator here
the volleyball and kids rolling down the hills
buzzed from a large glass of red
Sit next to niall’s, whose name I pronounce wrong
He validates my existence in my own world
my intellect, and then probes
unintentionally making me feel inferior
I respond with ‘damaged goods’
for never having a serious relationship
I drift off
feeling the light breeze through the bro muscle knit muscle tank\

The more the better I feel
Eye the people I work with
feel a moment of being apart of something,
an /us vs them/ moment

I walk to another field, grassy,bright
but on the other side of the campus
think about the same guy that I wrote
all of the sad poetry about
stare at the very pregnant woman and her husband
sitting on the bench in front of me
imagine what they are going through
drink a cup of coffee and write another poem