Enjoys pressing the undersides of mugs and glasses on fabric to leave behind wet rings of condensation on clothing.

Words dribbled onto canvas.
Fears and childish thoughts rippled outward from churning inner space while the world is quiet.
Never quite sure where the line is.
Knowing the line is just a construct.
Categories, buckets, simplicities for the sake of making life easier.

Wanting to navigate those more complex waters, seeing wonder and satisfaction.
Thrilled with the universe.
Nervous about drowning.
A dull hum slowly resonating.
Like the noise of the grain of timbers softened and finished for tabletops and chairs and counters.

Flipping the sweatshirt on and off again.
Twirling the smooth fabric inside out and outside in and the moment of warmth.
Against the moment of those sleeves just that inch too far.
Those sleeves, to toy with them, tug at them, pull them back.
Or use them to cover the fist, wrapped and tucked away. Safe.

It's a moment.
Dribbled out across the pavement like coffee dripping from a cracked travel mug.
No longer useful, after only a year.
Not even a mocha now. Coffee with some half and half and sugar.
Stopped getting whip cream every time on mochas.

That was forever ago, and that was never planned.
Pressing some more condensation into pant legs, the darkening temporary moisture.
Gone back into the air, or whatever it does so rapidly.
Pushing the sleeve back, settled hands in the old familiar manner.

S'all good
The fools the rhythms
   the steps mistaken
Faltered right now
Foundation shaken
I guess it was always too fundamental
About the truths
   Crushed + shattered
Under others
Plagued + uttered
Breath frosty
Always costs me
Stooped + questioned
These things you told me
I got roiled
Thrown + tripping
Still I'm stepping
When I'm told

But 3 landings runways cold
Next steps
Next steps
I think that's good
Done for now, not for good
Next steps next steps
Jittered sips
Coffee's cold, footing slips

Next steps,
Next steps
I think I can
I'm ready now
Let's play this plan

What I want
What I hope
What do I these?
The tender touch
The sweet green leaf holding the dew aloft
The fresh chill that makes these coarse sheets
so warm
A brush with daybreak.
The eternal sunrise
Which will end far from now
But for now it tends to us impassively
The fiery hearth of a star.
Against the cold and the dark
Wandering in the black winds
Of this galaxy
While I take comfort,
One I wish for all,
Of coarse sheets heated by warm being.

shakes a little.

fingers twitching

concentration completely lost

sometimes there are subtleties. but other times there are not.

it's not okay

finding out what's okay.

knowing what's okay

feeling what the fuck is the awkward

sometimes I want to know what it's like to be female.

and then I get to watch the beats and rhythms of the ceaseless male come-on.

it's okay, you know, to dig someone.

and to say it.

but then the tools carve too deep.

and you gotta learn this one isn't yours.

there are others.

fuck, there are so many others.

and so why push so hard when you fucked up this time.

maybe the next point is yours. but geez I've still got the tension from these muscles and bones crawling up my back.

Interior

Know it well

There are doors within.

Into all the other halls.

And they can bring you outside.

If you open them.

You might be inside.

I'm inside too.

I'd rather the air circulate.

I need the warmth sometimes.

But mostly I want the cool breeze.

It moves my heart.

In the black of memory.

Takes me back,
Knowing things are lost in the axis.

Bit by bit.

Pushed forward.

Against our will.

Don't we wish we had found those mountains.

That we saw them rise and fall in our eyes.

Got lost in the crumbling rocks.

Even this song keeps and keeps and keeps beating

When there was no beat I felt it still.

I clawed at that perception.

We haven't but seen the ephemeral.

We are tricked and tortured,

It's a moment right here.

I saw the moment.

I was lost in the moment.

That moment freezes and the rocks try to crumble.

The beat in this song keeps beating, but the rocks can't crumble.

His face, lost in time.

When the days lengthen and go on and on and on and on

Feel his gaze crumbled.

This moment is long frozen and past and beaten onward.

The jittered halted space in his gaze.

It's got a meaning when the mountains won't crumble,

And the pen slows its caress of the page.

I think I could see a time beyond these mountains.

And I can't tell if it meant more or less than this faltered awareness.

Please hold me close,

And let the time flow without us,

I want these currents to keep us here forever,

In the eddies where we'll never change.

He got locked into systems.

Even though he could see they weren't  impervious.

His rhythms seemed static,

The pleasant boundaries pulsing in place.

It was those times when people asked him to move beyond the walls.

He hadn't made the walls, but they still felt sacrosanct.

He felt anxious when he approached them.

Weird walls.

Walls that meant nothing except his confused sense of duty to an abstraction that he couldn't wrap his mind around.

There were limits to his thinking.

As he fought off the tortured stories of mistrust he sensed all around,

He fought the walls themselves.

He struggled to answer the unspoken questions.

Why couldn't he break them?

When would he be as tall as the walls themselves?

He had no answers. 

He only saw the systems locked in place.

His foolish feet planted.

A beat statically repeating.