Poetry

I’m Nobody! Who are you?
Are you online too?
On here I’m Somebody
I write poetry—you know!
How dreary—to be—Nobody!
How spacious—like a cloud
To be oneself—without pretense—
One’s existence avowed!

Orange

I want to live with you in perpetual sunset
Where everything is lit by natural Edison lightbulbs
And your lips are orange sherbet

Where eyelids are orange peels
And the sunlight throws
fuzzy, fizzy orange and yellow starbursts
Across the screens of my eye

Whose juice runs down my cheeks
Where I can finally taste
The sad energy built up
In my roots
From farmers’ past

Everything is incredibly warm
Everything is incredibly safe

The word “divorce” feels funny
I exchange it between hands
Chew on it for a while
Deliberating between sides of my mouth
It’s slimy on the tongue
And unsatisfying to swallow

It’s a body you flip into the sea
Laden with rocks
You know that
Necessarily
Saltwater floods the lungs
travels through capillaries
then mixes with blood
And that the body turns deadly dense
All you can do is affect a hollow, heavy stare from the halogen-lit docks
Waves black sapphire, white-tipped
sloshing, belying

It plunges like lead when released
Cracking the floorboards
You have to pick it up
And it’s exhausting
Because you not only have to grab this lump
But you also have to apologize to your dinner guests for making
such a racket

Spoon me and connect the spots on my back
Create a beautiful Pisces or Orion
From marks that are supposed to be scars

I told myself I’d at least find a job and move to LA after college.
I told myself I’d at least do that by the end of the summer.
I told myself I’d find a full time job in something that aligned with my skillset.
I told myself I’d find a full time job.
I told myself I’d find a part time job.
I told myself that even though my dad offered me a full time job at the bar he goes to every night that I wouldn’t dare take it.

I tell myself that I am just unlucky.
I perform an FBI Criminal History check on myself just to make sure.
I tell myself that all those long hours I put into studying and extra-cirricular activities during college will be worth something to someone someday.
I tell myself that I shouldn’t be assigning my personal achievments to my self worth.
I berate myself for letting capitalism seep that far into my being.
I come to a deeper understanding.
I witness my self-love and my depression oddly increase and positively correlate.
I remind myself of the impermanence of things.

I put on headphones, close my eyes, and curve my neck over the top rail of my chair.

I don’t remember the reason I scribbled on
laminated worksheets every week
Maybe there was something wrong with me—
I don’t remember being worried

But I do remember the warm glow of the projector, the shadows, shapes, and situations
I could create absorbing light with my
marker and hand
And towering adults to take it away

I remember endless median trees
Wrapped in warm, holiday lights
Appearing and disappearing over hills
Driving home at night

Now,
I control the machine that let me see those
glowing branches
But I don’t feel in control
This road uproots,
drags me back years,
And throws me in a crowded backseat

The windows are a foggy bokeh
and lights don’t lead the way
They just remind me to enjoy the drive

Can you make me cry, my love?

Can you bash my head
on the corner of the bathroom sink
So that the cerebrospinal fluid
flows through the cracks
and balances my humours?

Can you shatter my ribs
and pull out my heart
that has grown thrice its size
white-knuckle it
bloodlet
and watch
purple posion pass
through the cracks of the drain?

I can do none of these things by myself
and I’m running out of time
before my pH becomes too low
and my bodily fluids eat me away from
the inside

Quarantine Haiku

1

An uncertainty:
Green leaf twirling into dirt
A new summer love

2

Fear of commitment
She said to me on the phone
Seeds journey on wind

3

Where is all my hope?
The sea levels are rising
And I should still swim

4

A sudden thumb war
My fingers graze yours, fists lock
We laugh, meditate

5

Champagned colored skies
I’m trying to be with you
While there is still time

6

If I can’t love you
Then I will love these instead:
The moon, stars, myself

I could reach down
and pull my heavy heart from its cavity
dip inside a comically thick paintbrush
and paint viscous strokes
over all the deep blue
I see in my room lying awake
thinking about you

I want to wake up with you
whoever you are
and lay there with your warmth
under the blanket of the mid-morning fog
and it’s muted sunlight through French blinds
continuing to doze off and return
to a dream

I’m in this dorm room
Alone, in the middle-of-nowhere Canada
I’m naked,
staring onto the soft glow of a moonlit gradient
against the cinderblock wall
and fantasize about it
on your pale skin
You slowly walk towards me
and lie down, putting your crooked leg over mine
You kiss my shoulder
And let your hands reassure my chest
Even though it’s a summery, prairie night
I don’t mind your warmth

Noodles and Balsamic

You box your hurt
like that pasta with balsamic
you once imparted to me in tupperware to take to class
along with the whisper “I’m no chef”
sauced with your smirk
and buttered with arch crinkles around your brown eyes

But this box malnourishes me
and keeps me from your deep kindness
from your loving touch

It really boils down to
pasta water
and the promise of
saturated noodles