These poems were written between November 2017 and April 2018.
snowing equinox
maybe the sky
is depressed
i’ll encourage you, firmament,
to kiss my skin again
and weep no more in icy sorry
they may not understand
but i do
frankenstein (poems of an autobiographical nature viii)
i am tired of
the frankenstein
of ideal me
patched up in my anxious mind
can’t accept
i’m just not this frankenstein
of better words and prettier form of sweeter lips and popularity
knock knock
remember who you wanna be
well you’re not
someone shoot this monster or set its ship a sail and let me sleep in peace as
myself
new aesthetics
screw pittsburgh’s osmosis into my creative soul
i now admire dead leaves’ curls
and smoke stained brick
people-scarred land and drug-scarred people
truck-crunched beer cans, confetti on the cracked highways
so many sad boys here
we laugh in philadelphia
our grass is greener
they bleed brains and gold
pollution and wanderers
makes sense
not all steel is magnetic
poems for they i know (part v)
antithesis to my creative gods
clouds to sunshine and old coffee
wearing your baggage under your eyes
writing your soul in between all cows eat grass
and erratic punctuation
and kind silence as we pulled apart daisies
not counting lovers but minutes to escape each other’s airspace
this old empty skyline sags parallel to your shoulders
two different kinds of alone
but your magnetic insignificance so unreadable
everyone knows you
but near no one knows you
“i don’t want to be here”
“haha that makes two of us”
“as in, this planet.”
“also makes two of us.”
poems for they i know part vi
heart cries a river and eyes hold the sky,
voice fills the mind and words steel my shoulders
sing me a storm song, lovely.
they broke your clouds but your rains, they loved me.
the world doesn’t end beyond the horizon.
haiku xii - beautiful
when a boy told me
i was beautiful i for-
got i ever was
opened ears
silence?
why hardly.
the world is also a psalter.
summerset
gonna watch this summerset in the golds and greens
of pennsylvania;
gonna leave this field of dustbowl dreams
and neon signs of yesteryears;
bury myself in dead men’s memories
and wrap myself in your arms.
joyous fury as spring rages in
i sit in the rain and they frame me
ring around a reasoner
can’t conjure a renewed love and drive for what i do
i only dream of bills anymore
and so with wrecked headphones and a lack of resolution
i wander through song’s successful shots at three minute self expression
someone push me off my beaten path and i’ll find the words again