Poem 147

for a dear friend struggling with her young-voids, a poem for inspiration, or perhaps just proof that we are all the same.

selfmedicated

Maybe for a long while—

a sense of waiting, of bone loss

of time on lines running through our bodies

together rolling on a wild hushed open

I had hopes of closure before…

the long wide brush which cups the desert

and makes us whole. It’s never too soon to ration

our matches. Never too early to siphon our love.

I had known of secret rituals—bringing back the dead

young lies we knew so helplessly wrong,

and yet, some other afterlife

was always better-still

—ECW

Poem 146

Hey poets. School has been kicking my bum! Hope to write more soon…
A woman came in to the library today and needed help printing her poems as gifts. They were simple but I was inspired by her blissful writer-glow. I need to write more, in a small way it’s more important than anything else

nonleapyears

In case of wax flowers

know this—we are well thread

in the eyelashes of all things                     &this

hardly a coincidence we have

the same hair—espresso except

in summer, forever lovelier remembered

&this

heavier with time, unfolded over and over

&this

hollow quiet space which I filled w/ sleep-signs

ah-feather-be we wander wishful, pinkytied

&quiet

something humble this way grows

from the earth we come wide-eyed except

in summer, when our mouths are open &this

is the quietest place we can be: together

holding out for rain

&rain&rain&rain

—ECW

Poem 145

a poem for my love on a day that feels like summer is here already…

The summer sets colossal –

Rolling over and over the incredible heat

The mouth of the desert kings were quiet

Dry and witty, your single bloom

The proof of lifetimes catching the certain seed

Most likely to live a second summer—last the chill

We stand at the edge, where there once lapped sea

Our minds a hollow port of memory—the summer sleeps

Deep below, a water-table, under our bustle, quiet-cool

Where once the sun was something lovely

Then hot and hateful, eating up all the leafy greens.

We are summer-swept, midday slept,

A hopeful violet in a dusty reign. We summer-wept

When the water came, ten thousand years of rain

When the sand remembered the sea again

When you & I were we again.

–ECW