goodbye love bugs

fragile and precious 
mysterious miracles,
may we meet again <3 

The weekend is so scary (after Philip Larkin)

The weekend is so scary. It moves on without your consent,
unimpressed by the agony of the ones who are living it
as if parenting our tantrum. Instead, content
with nobody to coddle, it blossoms sunlit
onward, having no reason to slow its descent

into Monday again, deciding we've had enough,
and packing us into our carseat, screaming,
and driving on. The rest of the days fly by through
the window, and lull us back into daydreaming.
The workdays loosening us for Friday, like a plough.

continual

My heart. glorious chattering

my heart exploding into birds that swoop and dive 

like a fast lava lamp. I am alive and I want to be alive

in my body. I want action within my chest, for there I surge.

I give my life over to the surging and to the birds.

Come on, birds. Fly! I freeze them accidentally 

when I climb up into my brain and wrap myself up in a blanket,

streams of words freezing my birds like cold magic rain. 

I am going to get into the right pants. 

They are going to walk me down my path. 

I am going to get into the right shoes. 

They are going to walk me down my path. 

I am going to put on the right dress.

I am going to connect with the person in the mirror. 

She is going to get out there and live her life. 

Yes! I must remember this is what is happening. 

where are my feelings?

Echolocating into my body
with poetry. Where are you? At the back of my throat:
a young artist I've mentored.
Lew puts life out into the world marvelously, but he's frustrated.
I have the perfect vantage point. I speak to him six times a year,
but he's forced to live with himself every day.
No matter. He's doing great. I'm so proud. I can remember
when I didn't think he was a master, and he wasn't.
But his will turned his passion over and over again like dough,
and I told him to keep spinning, even though I genuinely
wasn't sure where he would end up. I can't believe I did that.
How reckless. I guess I believed in believing in someone.
Now he is a wonderful pizza. Saucy and sliced. 
He's hitting the back of my throat, I can feel
how far he's come, how much he's worked,
and I feel guilty for not being totally sure of him,
you know, back when I told him to go for it. 
But anybody who wants to be an artist, you gotta say go for it. 
Because at that point they already are. You gotta get out of their way
and let them crash that car wherever it's heading. 
Otherwise you set them up for a lot more damage.
This I believe. I live like this. Can you believe it?
Despite the danger, or because of it. 

catch-up haiku

Will you still love me
if I don't have what it takes?
"What who takes?" she asked. 

I must must must

Mustn't I?

Mustn't I must must must?

Shouldn't I? Oh - I shouldn't. 

I couldn't. 
I wouldn't. 

I would never.

I won't.  

But would I ever? 

And do I want to? 

I do want to. 

I want want want to. 

I want to. 

I really really want to. 

And so I feel I must. 

I must must must. 

And I will will will. 

I shall shall shall.

And I can can can.

And I must must must. 

Mustn't I?

Mustn't I?

Wouldn't I?

Couldn't I?

I could. 

I would. 

I will. I'll be there.

I promise. I don't know. 

Maybe. We'll see. 

I think so. I hope so. I don't know. 

Thank you. I'm sorry. I love you. 

I forgive you. 

Love, Sincerely,

Love,

Ariana.

Amen.  

Queen of the Mist

Annie Edson Taylor was an American

schoolteacher who, on her 63rd birthday,

October 24, 1901, became the first person

to survive a trip over Niagara Falls in a barrel.

Her motives were financial but she never made

much money from her adventure. She died 

penniless and her funeral was paid for by public

donations. At first I wondered what in the world

she was up to, but when I saw that her motives

were financial I became very sad and understanding.

I can see my own barrel and I can see the barrel 

of others and I can see how a Niagara Falls looms

for everyone. Oh Annie what the hell were you

thinking? You were probably so scared and

determined. What are we supposed to learn

from you? I see all the pieces at play but 

I have no idea how to put them together. 

I just keep seeing you going over the Falls. 

To the modern man

You shall not circumnavigate the earth, 

nor bring a royal treasures from afar. 

No battle shall assure your endless worth, 

No greatness in a combat service star.

The world is lacking greatness of the spirit. 

A man who gives in strength, and gains by giving. 

We have not seen him yet, and most men fear it:

what's needed for the modern life worth living. 

today

A babe of a morning,
with a relaxed and glowy sun.
I wade into it.

My stomach tenses
from the coffee I happily
poured over it. 

Remembering dreams about people
and places I'm convinced
have nothing to do with me. 

An ancient folk prayer: 
Good luck today,
and every day,
but especially today.

surf's up

My brother 

is a great joy of mine. 

We can speak 

so easily to each other.

But I can't

always get too close.

People are

a great joy of mine. 

I like figuring out how to speak 

easily to one another. 

But I can't

always get too close. 

My patterns

lean inward

and then leave a lot of space,

creating waves in my wake.

In and out, 

like breathing. 

In other words,

in many ways,

what I'm trying to say is, 

don't hold your breath. 

Love poem

Darling, let me dig 
into your spine and swirl
upward into your brain
and shoot out of the top of your skull. 

Let me sink down into your pieces and let me
flow all the way down your legs
and out of your socks. 

I want to lay down beside you in bed
and look at you for as long as I want to.
I want to gently massage your face with my eyes
until they pulse at the rate of your beautiful colors.

Darling, take me everywhere.
Take me everywhere we want to go.
I want to go retrieve our desires like treasure hunters,
fearless and grinning, sharing a map.

I love you beyond the hills I can see
from my window. I love you
in an ecstasy of reality. I love you
in a purity of now. I can't go on 

like this any longer. Every day I am going to go back
to the top of the poem and say it
all over again, in a different way.

los dos

one kind of a pit
is a vast emptiness, 
and another kind of pit
is a seed in a fruit. 

Every day 
I am not sure which one I need
and which one I am choosing. 

time-traveler

Whenever I forget that I am from the future,

I remind myself by saying: 

Imagine now. 

What was it you were going to do?

Then I remember to do it. 

off

It's a beautiful day. 

I'm bedridden and bleeding. 

But maybe I'll take a walk. 

Feel the clear sun zap. 

Stare into the mindless sky. 

Feel my back and hips ache.

I am off-time.

In doubtland. 

But nothing too scary.

Another wave is coming.

This I know. So in a couple weeks, 

I'll hop on and surf my way home. 

wish

I look upon you 
like a star in the sky
wishing upon you

as you shine 

wishing for your path

to connect to mine 
in good fortune

I am folding my hands

I am closing my eyes

I wish that your movement

would deliver the world into 

vibrant justice 

into 

technicolor peace 

into 

another season

of bittersweet joy 

into bursts of flowering change

good shot down is so blatant I now understand why we separate the physical and the metaphysical, because this starkness feels like a sign that only comes when we are faster asleep than we ever could have imagined

I must unfold my hands

I must open my eyes

For surely I have been wished upon

Surely I am someone else's star

the truth

my feelings float

within my inner pit, 

within the stone sides, 

above the sandy bottom. 

I observe the feelings

through a one-way glass

they move like clouds

in an upright oval.

powerful. dull. 

alive. dead.

I assess them.

I decide and report on

whether I feel something or not.  

Then the heavens open.

 info 

about a person 

I used to care about
drops down into the pit.

The scientist watches for feelings. 

Nothing occurs:

I don't have a feeling. 

My eyebrows raise. 

Surprising. 

I'm surprised you feel that way,

I tell myself. 

Well, I just don't, 

I reply. 

Interesting. 

half a prayer

let's go together always,
stick close together always,
make food together always,
eat together always,

sing together always,
worry together always,
give to the gods almighty,

brave the winter weather,
you and me together,
love the little anthems,

play the chords forever,
beg the heart to remember,
do what feels wrong,

do what feels right,
try to speak mightily,
express the sadness easily,

talk of the hopelessness easily,
slay the doom by speaking of it,
imagine the methods to counter it,

was I so naive then?
will I change for the worse onward?
I aim my flame of justice into the dark.

Motion

Glazing along the surface of the frozen lake, 
my blade shreds ice up into the air behind me 

like a jetski. I'm the fastest there ever was. 
The cold wind strips my face down to nothing. 

The sky is an infinity of grey, the ground a pad of white. 
The horizon is dark with trees. I'll never get there.

Still I flee, racing like I was made to.
I shine on and on and on, with nothing to give shade to.

My hat and scarf flapping. My mittens clenched.
My mind resplendent. I'm the fastest there ever was. 

NUGGETS G LEAGUE DUB FREE STYLE

I'm a Paul George hater

I'm Embiid eliminator

I'm the server, you're the waiter 

Sixers seven-up deflated

David Adelman designed it

Jalen Pickett primped and primed it

Nnaji shot and elevated

Hunter Thompson demonstrated

Peyton Watson never cratered

Number #21 elated

Godstrawther had em faded

Bruce Brown kept em bated

No frowns on my mien

No clowns on my team

Just home-grown colorado ballers aqui

I wanna give that big fat L to Philly hehehehehehe

I wanna give that big fat L to Phillyyyyyyhehehehehmmmmm mmmm

end of the day

Far from the seas am I.

Hanging on the line like a flapping sock.

Taking Tums am I.

Hair spilling up the pillow. 

Close to the woods am I.

Crouching by the darkness like a curious child.

Remembering my face am I.

Eyes closing on the poem.