stop/start.

in media res in high res.

a piss warm coca cola
shaken for slow centuries
by the smooth hands of
doctors and recluses
uncapped at the base
of your skull and it
gives you a headache
and a moment and
a punch to the stomach
and then it leaves you
and it stings when it
leaks out your nose

birdcalls are either questions or answers; depending upon what you need, it will be the opposite

when the sticky part of the masking tape gets too weak and the piece of paper that says “free” in sharpie falls off of a piece of broken furniture and onto the sidewalk, the world is yours; you can take it.

he forgot and she tied a red string around his finger so that he would remember. she tied a red string around him every time that he forgot. after 7 months he was completely mummified. his words were muffled. he remembered but he couldn’t express that to her whenever she would ask. thankfully, she left holes for his eyes and thankfully, her father was a craftsman. he built a sarcophagus out of balsa wood so that he could remember. she cut eye holes out of the wood with her fingernails and thumbs. thankfully, he could still see the world and understand beauty. she took him everywhere and he remembered everything.

you get in a taxi and you tell the taxi driver my address and i get in a taxi and i tell the taxi driver your address and at a certain point in both of our trips our taxis pass each other and we both roll down the window in the backseat and put our hand out and we hi five and then the taxis keep driving til you get to my house and i get to your house and we greet each other’s family and your mom gives me a big glass of lemonade with a slice of lemon in it and my sister shows you a picture that she drew and then i go upstairs and i bury myself in the sheets on your bed and you go upstairs and try to figure out which window you can see the moon out of

a man in a sedan
told me that he
was rushing to
the hospital
because his
cousin had
just died
in childbirth
and that she
hadnt picked
out a name
yet and


a taxi driver told me
“the news just keeps
getting worse and
worse i saw a woman
get stoned to death in
iraq and then i nodded
off and when i came to
i saw that robin williams
was dead and my wife
divorced me when mrs.
doubtfire came out and
ive been trying to reach
my kids ever since.”

sleepy texting is the new drunk texting

i will not give you
cut flowers
but i will plant
chrysanthemums
in the dead dirt
beneath your
window.

i will put everything
i need for one night
in my backpack
and then i will stay
out for a whole week.

i hope that the sound
of the rain reminds you
of your bones and then
makes you forget

and i hope that august
is holding you
in all of the ways that
i want to.

im afraid
i want to
know you
on a
molecular
level.

the sky and
the ocean
were created
by each other
and have no
intentions of
stopping.

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