Capturing Campus: October

Pajamas

Fear is a strange thing–
turning your hair on end
it pokes your shoulder on your walk home
but there’s nothing there when you turn
to face the dark
and there’s nothing there
as you sit on your bed late at night
but you feel hot breath down your neck
and you live alone so you turn on the light
The electricity bill gets higher these days
and you might have to take a night shift
to cover the cost
the cost of living alone
but will you be alone forever
found after a neighbor calls the cops
over a smell that curdles the mind
curdling your mind
you try not to think about it
so you think back to home
Scared in dinosaur pajamas
of that thing in you closet
You don’t wear them anymore
but you keep the closet shut
the lights on
your eyes open
and it’s dizzying
with disco lights
shallow breathing
The older you get
the more there is to be scared of

Wolverine Stew: Aimless

I have a headache

I treat it with two ibuprofen pills

And drink them down with bean broth from the garden back home

Mixed with tattered bits of veggie bacon

That I took back here in a Tupperware container

The ones with light blue lids that pop when you press them on

Never thought that would remind me of home

But still makes me smile

And all my thinking of silver hands and standing stones

And jumping with banshees to avoid the last stair of the fire exit

That only goes down and not up for some reason

Lets me get out of that feeling of my face being wrong

The hair glued to the scalp

And the air feeling too still 

And I don’t mind the mosquitoes

Putting a bump on each of my right fingers

Because I get to wander and look at mushrooms and cobwebs

And send pictures and recorded rivers to Mom and Dad

Smiling at the texts they send back

Because I like to share the earth in photos

And at night, when I don’t need to write about headstones

(One of the few times staying up ‘til 1 AM feels good)

I’ll spend them watching Bella Lugosi and listening to jellyfish lofi

But this time, I don’t laugh alone

Words flowing between like a two-stream-at-least river

And that will always be enough   

Capturing Campus: October

Futon Talk

sprawled out on the couch
you drop–hypnotized and m e l  ti n g
into the futon that sque aks as you
plummet into rainbows
tasting of cherries and grape soda
licking at the air as your pupils e x p a n d
and the silence is LOUD
spinning into a frenzy
you tell me you’ve never been so happy
yet I don’t see you smile
you tell me, it’s true, you’ve never been so happy
so I believe you
laying there, I count the minutes
between the sober black and white
of the clock on the wall
tick tock    you say    tick tock
I tell you I’ve never been happy
you tell me I’m smiling

Capturing Campus: October

Goodnight

the moon watches over me
as it retires behind the bold sun

it prays for peace
in a day to be lived
well and with vitality
it stands in solidarity
an enduring reminder
of birthdays long gone

and when black ink takes hold
amidst the chill and constellations
it appears
bright as day
to say goodnight
and welcome home

Capturing Campus: October

Magic

you told me you were a witch
sorting tarot cards with stubby fingers
prancing between old oak trees
casting spells that you dreamed up
tossing herbs in a cauldron pot
chanting gibberish at the stars
you gasped and cried out
praises for life
distanced from the past
future manifestations
of hope that would last
your heart on your tongue
bleeding words with vigor
but I knew they weren’t listening
just watching you like a million eyes
but I let you believe
because you were magic to me

Capturing Campus: September

Spindly Legs

if the mind has legs
they are spindly
like a spider’s or vines on a plant
which turn, wrap, squeeze, intertwine
without secure direction or honest intention

you look at me
with my spindly legs
but your smile is mischief
like the Cheshire cat’s up above
clinging to a branch in the dark

I find you hard to trust
and I’m sure you’d say the same