Sublime

No one can love you enough. Build a shelter for the flies and the wasps instead. Make houses for the rats and the owls and the bluebirds. Sit for hours in the shade and watch how these tiny citizens move, floating or drifting or scrabbling over stones, swooping or creeping in rings of shadow, rings of light. Make space inside your liquid heart for

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I wanna write a poem. But I want it to say what you’re thinking. I wanna patch up the holes when your boat starts sinking. I wanna write that ‘one of a kind’ poem, that ‘free your mind’ poem, that ‘I like how you made that rhyme’ poem, that ‘I like that last line’ poem, that ‘Can I hear that one more time? (That is, if you don’t mind.)’ poem. I wan

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If I am a rib, let me be the one closest to your heart– synchrony was the only calligraphy they had in Eden. I follow you around with my pen tip wet, like a cat stalks little flying things and bits of Styrofoam.