I shred the beets.
Heads of red flicks in the bowl
parged of white now rosé, blushes.
To say the word properly is to nestle the
tongue in the church of the mouth the nave
of clucks tucked under the roof of the palate to
squeeze conjoined shushes and birch noises.
To steam to steep
with the lazy roil of the soup.
Do you recall the crunch of the snow outside our dacha?
The days where ice coated crusts cut
galoshes
sloshed.
The tureen beckons with its fractures.
To predict the future merely gaze into the soup.
How is this to see
a winter of bread and shavings
of fibers sewn rough
of tough, tough coughs that spray rose
petals in the dawn?

I remember when you used to wake me up in the morning with a kiss & a melody of your sound whispering in my ear telling me "good morning" the world was still..for I fixed my energy unto you...now that you're no longer in my presence, nature wakes me, the wind kisses me..the birds whisper sweet melodies in my ear...I should be saddened by this substitution but there's beauty all around me even when you're gone

The piano jingles, it speaks
The brass is smiling, it creaks
The ensemble's finally ready to play
They are all here so people make way
The music starts, bass moanin'
Albert, Charles, Art groanin'
All these beautiful sounds, just like life
But I don't hear any of them
None of this is real

hi, yes
hello
what a pleasure it is to see you again
you look great
you look so soft in that sweater
i wish i could actually tell you that
like out loud
but like,
that'd be weird right?
no, no
yeah, of course it would be
we're just
friends
after all

oh you want to get to know me better?
what an honor!
i am so very glad that you do
just don't run away if i make things too awkward
just don't run away when i can't think of anything to say
just don't fall in love with me
if you are falling in with a rope in your hands
you know, in case you feel like climbing back out
and stuff...

just don't do it
please
okay?

Raw thoughts, yeah?
Nah, not today, man
Too bad, I was expecting them
You'll get them, just shut up
It's just noise
They all want me and my noise
But it's all just noise
It scratches
It creaks
It beeps
It boops
It bleeps
It beams
It beckons
It goes on for oh so, so, so, so, so, so, so long
Why do you want it, you disgusting *****?
shhhhh
khhhh
tshhhhh
krrrrr
bhhhhh
ssssss
trrrrr
But it doesn't make sense
None of it does
It's me
It just goes on and on and on and on and on and on and on
Why do you want it, tell me that
Who are you to ask my why I want it if I do
I'm tired of this can I just make peace with me
Yes you can
No you can't
Yes you can't
No you can
Yes you are
No we aren't
No I can't can
.......
.......
.......
-------
-------
-------
ooooooo
Who are you?

have you ever tried to write poetry
when you’re not at all feeling poetic?
when life isn’t necessarily ugly
but it isn’t necessarily beautiful either?
when you could talk about
the sonder you try to feel
as the people sitting at tables around you
eat their food, talk on the phone, finish their homework, sip their coke
do whatever it is they do
when you could talk about how the
chill of this air reaches underneath
your goosebump skin
and draws out a shiver, a chatter
when you could capture the sounds
of the ice machine
and the clicking keyboard keys
and the rusty sliding of chairs on
a linoleum floor
when you could write about
whatever you **** well please
but it just doesn’t come to you?
have you ever been too tired
to feel tired?
god, i wish i were awake.
life is happening
and where am i?

Growing up, I found a melancholy spring.
I often lingered in its belly
slept in its warmth
hid in its shadows
cried in its pools

I chose the life of guarded existence
Slipped over the surface of things
hid away in the shadows

Spring turned to summer and fall
melancholy froze in its place
and waited 'til next year
to crawl inside again

As I left the comfort of melancholy
I expected to find love
start from the bottom
look through endless rows
and found no sound but whispers.

Then there was a little stir.