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Literature

Love Letters

after Jeanann Verlee Dear E, You asked if I needed time. Yes, with you. I need more time than my body can give. I love you. You’re it. Full stop. Dear C, I wanted your hand in the sun but you just wanted a body to haunt. Dear V, We never should have happened. But I still talk to you in the dark. Dear H, I still hate your pedestal. I hope you liked the crash. I sure did. Dear W, You loved me a lifetime in six weeks. I’m sorry I left. Dear A, You can stop running now. I’m not there anymore. Dear D, I loved you first. You never had to say it back. Dear R, I almost believed you, you little shit. Dear P, I still don’t like you. Stop texting. Dear E, I love you. You’re it. Full stop.

Literature

Dear Solstice,

you’ve gone hastened the sun to devour the moon yet i linger within your hourglass cadence drip me silvern drop me blank write me anew je t'adore

Literature

Let's Not Go Back

after Chen Chen the moon beckons a convalescence a rehab of mind when drug of choice was obedience and I’ve come back to sense back to etched bright on broken skin a severance—gilded reeling past anonymity a resurrection; retch of wilding plucked mercy from tender earth

Literature

Six ways to be a butterfly

Land gently and linger among the marigolds and asters, snapdragons and lavenders, daylilies and sunflowers. These buffet of flowers are yours to savor. So don’t settle. Play. Strut. Twirl in eddies because you know everyone is watching. Flit between sunbeams. Let light filter through your splendor. You are beauty. Be careful where you rouse your wings. You are power, rippling exponentially. A creator of hurricanes, you change the world. Emerge backwards into your cocoon. Disassemble each scale in your wings and strip. Be cozy. Stay cozy. Invent cozy if you want to know it intimately. Love your furry plumpness. Caterpillar, you are child again. Unfurl yourself. Let them see you. Let them see your whole self. Then fly away. Follow the tail end of summer with your brethren. Let the wind guide you. The sky is home. Never be one thing. You are a child that flies. You are an adult that never leaves home. You are the essence of metamorphosis. You survive for sanctuary. You

Literature

Easy ways to break my heart

- offer me tea (but bring it, half-steeped with 2% milk—the taste of devastated water) - show me dark, pregnant clouds with their petrichor breath only to scatter their burgeon (and leave me in yearning) - be brave for me and never tell me you’re afraid (I see you, you know) - throw out a book you think I wouldn’t miss (I know where each one of my books live) - tell me poetry is worthless in the real world (it’s not; you steaming big pile of shit) - play Iris by Goo Goo Dolls once (and watch me never fall asleep) - make me sleep without a blanket (you monster) - ask me where I’m from (and then not listen) - make me re-watch Dean tell his mom he hates her but still can’t stop himself for loving and forgiving her (Supernatural Season 12, Episode 22, 28:21 minutes in, if anyone wants to bawl their eyes out) - remind me how young I am (because I’ll probably watch everyone I love die first) - say you want me and then take it back

Literature

You are here, vast and a bit closer spaced bright distorts of pull gathered and fathered past the mythology of our blip existence You are here and we are closer still to the genesis of our sky, the above surrounding our blue And you are here, death brought closer infinite brilliant deaths waiting on our wink