poem

Here is the language I have settled on. There is no sleeping now. It is not possible when you know what the night is for. Here is the bed I will not return to. There is no city now. It is not possible when you know what longing is for. Here is the legacy I leave behind. There is no hesitating now. It is not possible when you have been given a body that does not quite fit, that wants to wear your scars with pride.

poem

I have no suit, no watch, and nowhere to be. For all I know, I am not waiting for anyone, but no one tells me anything. At least not what I want to hear. After a while, you stop waiting. You find a suit and a watch and somewhere to be, even if it is standing in front of a mirror wondering what it was that kept you so long.

poem

All I ever wanted was a window in a room where any voice could reach me. Where I could take notes and diagnose the night. Where I could finally get some sleep without disturbance. Where I could wait for you to arrive.

poem

i sing

for the dreamers

who never once

closed their eyes

and for

all the lovers

who have no use

for disguise

for those

who became legends

without so much

as goodbye

for all of

the saviors

who never once

called in favors

and for those

who are strangers

in spite of the dangers

of being unknown

for so long

you all

have a place

in my song.

poem

in a climate of hunters we became prey. out in the headlights we lost our way. did you not see the signs. did you see the threshold. once we were crossed, we forgot we were bold. time was much louder then. as were we. could nothing restore what we meant to be. no escape. no remorse for our public display. living. working. dreaming. the hunters are on their way.

poem

this is
where i am today

not beyond
or between words

though they may
seem too small

they contain me
just as you do

and yet

i take as much space
as i can

and yet

you expand

until I am gathered
safely in

dreaming of
new words

to contain you.