Parking Lot
I miss parking lot you
the you that dashed on concrete
raced in grocery carts
the you that laughed
until you cried
the you that always knew what to say
to ease the angst
I miss the feeling
of beautiful hurt
like pushing on a bruise
or twisting a tooth
with the tingle and ache
that made me fall for you
without stopping
I miss parking lot you
that I’ll never meet
for the first time
or the last
again
Shining dried leaves of gold coins
Cool but not cold, crisp but not desiccating
Sky painted over with light, pale strokes
Sanguine ivy creeping through bark skin
Nestled past the graveyard encircled by hawks
As the last of the bees gather
Wooden fairy house staged from sticks and latched with leaves
Hushed hill of degrading green
The sun still hangs above, yet the crickets chirp
Wilting daisies and remnants of Black-eyed Susans
Squirrel waits by the amphitheater for a concert I suppose
Dry lake of reeds and towering Queen Anne’s lace
Brush your hand over them to hear the waves
Or wait for Eurus to kindly produce them
Snapdragons swim in shallower parts
Sandy coasts of stampedes surround the waters
I can hear mechanical echoes on the empty railroads
I wonder what their destination is
Never have I found a stiller willow
The Spanish graffiti says “you are my world”
Is it rustling leaves or something else beneath this creaking bridge?
Logs long-covered in lichen
There’s a forest of stinging nettles
I can see gold reach toward the sky
As I exit towards the graveyard
Tending to Sunsets
life may be worth the tears
if for the sunsets
which close tired eyes
meld the heart in soft colors
wrap heavy bones in the dark
it’s something of an exhalation
breathing over cityscapes
and rolling hills
it lets you sink when you are stiff
think when you are blurry
in the eyes and head
how many skies have you tended
turning day to night
how many stars have you counted
losing track always
how many sunsets were meant for you
My nights this time of year are made of
Home-made cemeteries and their hundred lights
Laughing in the forest made of
Bony twenty-sided dice
The candy corn tree and strings
(both web and metal)
Of an open mic echoing in halls I once walked
My own breath becoming fog in
The lamplit snow falling as we passed out candy from
An antique plastic pumpkin
Watching together as skeletons dance in gourds
Every porch lined with grinning faces
Their night-sky mold interior lit by electric candles
The sky clearing just in time to see the Hunter’s
Moon hanging in those last moments of running
In the dark, in my mask, in the cold, content
I will wish everyone I know and those I pass
That feeling of being at home in all this
My ideal is to be a worm-infested caramel apple
Hoping to be sickly sweet and full of life
Sometimes I worry I make a ghost of myself
But tonight, I get to come back
And this time, I’ll remain a little longer
I would look into your eyes first
Hear them tremble as I took you in
You’d gasp in disbelief
Your arms scrambling to grab hold of me as I hang on to you
You’d feel cold
While I’d embrace it
Warm
And we could finally have an end to our story
Much less time for dreams
Yet when my mind slips to sleep
I keep imagining you
Choking me
Then Shaping your phrases
So we land on the same wavelength
You’re always so calm
I want to see you catastrophic
