I met you
in the parking lot
between the county court
and the CVS Pharmacy

I did not buy your wares.

I did not look you in the eye.

Your coat was torn
but I did not offer you
mine.

I did not hear your sales
pitch or read your
convincing literature.

And now you’re off again
to find another buyer.

Good Luck.

It has been two years since I started burning the edges of my rope

In the impossible fear it may unwind

But I’ve only ever learned knots that are
Impossible to untie

sometimes we understand
sometimes we’re young
hearty and poop-pants full
sometimes we’re old with mossy feet,
lonely and lacking
sometimes we need someone to share rain drips with
sometimes we wait for things to make sense
sometimes we connect the dots or feel and see
that we’re unique but branded
that we’re neither dispossessed nor free
sometimes we’re full- we tolerate,we endure
sometimes we’re empty- we drain, we harm
sometimes we wonder if we’re good or good enough
if we’re alive or alive enough
doubts and insecurities afflict us
meadows and moonshines overwhelm us
we run,we hide
we wear different faces
we make excuses
we cut corners
sometimes we’re strong- we confront, we overcome
sometimes we’re blessed- we shine, we rise
we make decisions to occupy the hours
we build
we invite
we love
we suffer
we hold onto memories
we start all over
we forget
we think we choose
the roles we play
the rules we follow
the chances we betray
but when we finally realize
we’re not much of anything
to worry, to fuss so much
it’s already late
we’re out of time

Here, in room 2514, I light my bowl for the sun,

for the day,

for

my mind,

here in room 2514, I found my love,

my soul,

my sanity…

Before room 2514, before you,

there was nothing but blackness,

nothing but cynicism,

agony,

And even though I light my bowl, to escape,

to enlighten,

to expand,

I run to you.

In room 2514 I saw the sun rise,

for the first time,

in my 24 years,

for the first time,

in my existence,

there is light.

Today I
Wore the sun like a heavy wool on my
Long Island back
Remembering
That I am California childhood. mountain-painted, looking
like a seismograph chart and
bleeding grass blades between my toes
In any shoes that aren’t
bare feet. Feeling
the impossibly dense thickness of
Sunlight Bursting
Through my back and out my chest as I
Also radiate light, coming
through my fingertips

(and sometimes from them)