Poem.

corn and dead grass and emeralds in marbled orb eyes
(shooting moonbeams back at me
in the pitch dark)
watched my every faucet teardrop.
even on covert, soul-sore days.

triangle ears cut from black felt patterns
(so sweet to kiss, so thin
with little network veins sketched in them)
heard each warbled languish mourn-moan.
even in voiceless, zipped-up nights.

cautiously padded paws
(that readied perpetually
my never-quite-squishy-enough-for-you bed dressings)
grazed all my hairline heart cracks.
even from fine, untouchable culprits.


Sweet Olivia,
I cherish the scars that you gave me.

Poem. (Goodbye to my back yard)

i sit
untwisted(freely)
in the sultry velvetness of this hot evening
drinking breath-by-breath in the sweet liquid air

drawing ever in
pushing then out

feeling the salt night on my sticky skin
knowing it was crafted by god for simply just Me

and grass and sky feel softer to the touch
(on this my night)
and compassionately more accessible than other (less here-centered) evenings
and the breeze suggests itself easily to my cheek
“we’re all here
and we’re happy to have you as well.”