Sometimes when the wrong color

is on the wrong cap

I think about eating preschool lunch

at the State Fair

and the ex who overpopulates my dreams

I don’t want to be holding myself back

comparing sole-focused types or easily drunken types

my neither abyss leaves me drowsy for days

and in between wildly



Rarely satisfied

the good kid in me clarified

I chew through calm for something beating

It’s a rhythm only I’m good at repeating

trusting the things that slip away

and those that won’t unstuck

it’s hard to get off a ride when it’s fun

but when you throw up, whether you like it or not, you’re done

notified ending.

I’m not sure I need the world to watch this transitioning

digging for Genuine

in a sandbox



When I was a child

in between the oozey stickiness, leaks

and holey door screens

there was something sharp in my experiencing

a freshness, an unfolding


at the same time, everything was permeating into me

there was no shell for my soft body

I didn’t even know a shell was possible


So I shrunk away eating

a lot that wasn’t mine

some was beautiful

most made my belly ache

hard to trust that this would slip away

it was constant cycling


When I finally found those who gazed

at me with understanding

it was the unfolding

I could see more clearly

gentle dirt to walk on

tears fell

an embrace

a steady unwinding

I worked hard not to blur the lines

I’m still working

there is so much more space between my aches now

a bright ribbon unraveling, I’m ready to follow

believing the possibility of living widely

with fresh softness