Along the dark burrow of grass and snow,

Winds careen and wrap around poles of red,

And I breathe in exhaustion and apprehension ahead 

Of kingdoms born that deserve the knife.

The same exact words are repeated in time:

Nothing changes—we don’t stay the same.

We grow and spread and play the game.

I couldn’t think of a better way to live my decline

 

My love's in stone and whistle reeds

And fields unaffected by the forces that take eye 

Without mercy of our godless communion.

Take me completely, and let us survive 

In service of each other and our wants and dreams.

 

No death come before me, and no death shall I see.

Relapse of my brain, and you wring me out—

You wrench me...

Winter comes with a gentle grace,
Snowflakes dance in a quiet space.
The world turns white, and
blankets come out
as blankets come down,
as trees stand tall with snow on top of
their leafless branches.
 
Frosty mornings greet the dawn,
with cold breaths
and an icy cover all around.
People shiver
and feel numb.
 
Yet they play in the snow,
Building snowmen row by row.
The air is crisp, the nights are long,
With winter's charms inside a song.
 
Fires crackle, warm
and bright
in cozy homes while outside
the night is filled with stars,
and their fires crackle too.

 
Winter whispers through the trees,
with a chill,
but in this cold, we feel the beauty
found everywhere,
in every snowflake on the...

There is something inside my house.

It was late winter night. It was dark far too early this time of year, making me sleepy earlier, my brain thinking that it was closer to 9 p.m. at 7 p.m. It didn’t help that I was in the reeds of high school. Waking up at 6 a.m., then seven hours of loud kids, hard classes, and boring conversations made me exhausted after school.

When I got home from school, my mom wasn’t home yet. She worked long hours and would be home around 7 p.m., then we would make dinner together. Before I started to chip down my seemingly never-ending pile of homework, I wanted to take a nap. I set my alarm before my mom would be home and went to sleep.

I had been having strange dreams over the past few weeks, and tonight...

Look, the moon is a perfect circle.

A circle itself is perfect.

Please don’t go behind the buildings yet again,

I have watched you all evening

I have compared my life to yours and found mine lacking.

You are leaving me.

And you will never know what it was to see a silver of your brilliance

As you finally disappeared.

I have touched the part of you that never felt me.

I have touched you all the way to untouchability.

There were days I didn’t go out
and days I couldn’t remember.
Sometimes I sat at my desk
watching the trees outside blooming,
as if we had nothing in common.
They had the sun,
I had the sun through a window.
They were beginning,
I was unsure what I was.
Then one afternoon
after an early drink
I decided to get them —
alive and understated,
aware they were not
the most beautiful flowers
yet reassuringly strong.
I don’t know how they gave
the illusion of order.
One that was impossible to find
talking to friends, lovers, old colleagues;
they did not talk back. The tulips.
They merely filled the room,
their purpose being to be loved
for what they were, entirely
by how I saw them. No struggle
or epiphany. No work.
And...