In the garden
I searched for a flower
that reminded me of you
aster
begonias
carnations
chrysanthemums
cosmos
dahlias
daisies
hydrangeas
irises
lavender
lilacs
lilies
lotus
marigolds
orchids
peonies
poppies
roses
sunflowers
tulips
zinnias
but none were quite right
because I remember you said
you don’t like flowers
Beautiful
smoke stacking into stairs
billowing between the sun and the earth
star-bound and suffocating
with burning in the backs of throats
and tears in the eyes
not from memory or sunken phrases
but from particulates
and particular toxins
that stack so subtly
borrowing blue air
in an innocent display
that isn’t so innocent
the longer you linger
in the space between the sun and the earth
compelled to watch
the world dissolve
your body erode
in the beauty of it all
Friday on State
images of old America
glitter in Hollywood
rock bands roiling
and German beer (not so German anymore)
with patriotism and Ann Arbor trees
bright green walls, newly renovated
plants at the window (could be fake)
boba and straw in hesitant hands
your friend tells you it isn’t very good
but insists you drink it anyway
and anyway isn’t so bad, right?
Damaging the Dame
dashing destruction dancing with the dead in a diabolical dialectic we deflect and detract from daring desserts decorated in diamond delicates demonstrating devilishness which delegates those deserving the divine and the demonstrable is us
Thoughts before the end
My exam is in two days, and I’d rather pitch my head through a wall
but I trekked to Walgreens for toothpaste instead, so I must be an adult now
living somewhere that’s always alive with conversations
(you wouldn’t believe what I heard in the elevator)
What if I moved to Canada next autumn
I’m tired of discovering myself
to be more complicated
than yesterday’s inbox
I’ll sift through it
sometime (not soon)
I’m headed to the party
but the whole world’s on fire
wondering what she said to her
that made her leave
Can I walk with you
I’m so tired
Could you promise me
that everything will be okay in the end
Violent Midnight
blurry eyes
heavy face
itching for sleep
that won’t come
because the ball will drop at midnight
shining in a million colors
levitating like a God
among men
the crowd stretches
blocks away
counting down
destruction in ten
shattering
fracturing
an explosion
ringing ears
ring in the new year
new excitement
five minutes until midnight
and I’m starting to question
the expense, an effort done
just to destroy the ball
why ring in the new year
with violence
one minute
thirty
fifteen
ten
nine
eight
seven
six
five
four
three
two
one, it drops
but doesn’t plummet
falls but doesn’t break
why did I expect it to
b r e a k ?
