session #1

One day when I was bathing in my usual sadness I noticed butterflies on a bush in my backyard. When I approached it I was surprised to find that they didn’t fly away but remained. These purple flowers growing, not flying, towards the sun. I marveled at their mimicry. 

I wondered why life couldn’t be as simple as these charming buds. Why does this life have to be so tragic? And why would seeing a butterfly shaped flower bring me such joy? Why couldn’t I just ignore it. I wonder why I have to notice every exhausting detail.

I need some space—some breathing room. But how can I ignore your tears after you’ve seen an injured bunny? And how could I ignore your questions of, “Will I go to Heaven?”

You are a part of my world, but for you—I am your world. For you I will continue to reach, reach, and reach.

duh

Look at you
with the pink sky behind you
adjusting your cap
like you care
Look at you
with your bored eyes closing
faking your sleep
like a dare

keep

they pulled you out of the water
pale and grey
wind blowing on your blue dress
still clinging to your skin
your eyes stained with sadness
so mad to be saved
the cruel rope still embracing you
I ran to you and knelt
tears fell like stones
crushing my heart
each eager to remind me that
this love is not for the faint of heart

bogus

heard the blinds clank together

as if I’d have a visit from the voodoo man

but

I don’t even believe in him, I’d think

but

after a visit from the voodoo man

I surely would, I’d think

and afterwards tell him to pack up

all his trinkets, his tools of deceit,

his bottles of dark poison,

all his sparkling white elephants

leave me to close those blinds

and pray he leaves me far behind

season

his notes throw my brain
back to winter, cold and ice
he’s so good at that
everything freezing, everything leaving
rushing past me
going to places — I want to go
his keys spark my sleepy memories
my eyes explode with
those open fields and dying trees
my heart melts with burnt clouds
and those magical fading leaves

rage

I wonder if the Hulk ever hit his mother.

Did he ever graze her cheek

with his massive green fist so fast,

so hard, she couldn’t speak?

Throw her out of his room,

out the window, out of the house?

And I wonder if when he returned to normal,

did he recognize her scars, her hurt.

I bet he couldn’t remember–like him.

Darts his eyes from the display of pain.

Doesn’t move when she flinches away.

Doesn’t recognize the tears

because he can’t remain.

And I wonder if Stan Lee understands

what it really means to love the Hulk?

To stand in his way regardless.

The supernatural drive to help him stay calm,

despite the horror, despite the harm.

The relentless love at stake…

all the tender, godforsaken love it takes.

neglect

it’s like torn glances

encouraging words unspoken

walking away when the other

is begging to stay

it’s the turn of the head

when you are about to look my way

it’s the absence in the air

it’s not giving a care

and

this gloom we dish out

it’s hardly fair

interlude

this must be what the seas of Greece look like, 

so blue it looks white 

the water so deceiving 

this must be what normal feels like, 

so chill it’s like sleep

the peace I hear it leaving 

this must be what perfection tastes like, 

so fake it seems real 

the day it leaves me grieving  

taunt

there’s danger in having pity on me

cause you’ll sink like me

then you’ll be like me

don’t get too close

cause you’ll get

hurt, you’ll see

then be hurt

like me, just

you wait

and see

keepsake

let my eyes stay here and play awhile

before you go away. let me marvel at how

your light shifts shape, your amber haze so

addicting. let my eyes stay here and

play awhile, before you fly right out the

door. leaving your golden smile, your aura,

your everything – helpless on the floor