Regarding the Pain 11/25 I can only try to imagine life That it’s not easy for you to carry ornate glass plates of compassion fatigue Neither of us seem to be able to look the other in the eye Head resting on a shoulder Chipped paint on a park bench in November I’m never going home again Feels wrong, like voyeurism The stench of a dirty old town Reinforcing the structured pillar rats under the feet intention was to muddle through life and explain to the passersby’s that I like a mind of spaciousness and an effort towards collective empathy but I’m a sinner lost in the space of the head for days forgotten birthdays and missed phone calls running along the subway platform expecting someone to push yeah its gonna be a cold winter that’s what everyone’s been saying rainwater is good for the hair and the child inside of me begs for snow 10/25 There is an art to coughing up whitewash morning stomach acid aching on the 6 train to who knows land I can feel the weight of the city, the deeper we go the heavier it gets. I am a single loose string on a woven fabric of pure determination grit is loud, takes up the headspace to process the fact that we lost humanity to automobiles and glass offices, restaurants, cyberspace, cosmetic products, spacecraft, and enterprise. I cry at the disgrace. I cry for the ones I can't save 8/25 To Mom, Kamikaze Bees I’m sitting by the pool as you wade through a world that seems to be right where you want it. Thinking of phrases to describe you: A pillar of perseverance A novel of magnitude The force that makes me feel little again it was a summer of glue and habit of piecing together cracked porcelain. In the pool you place a finger to a drowning bee and I notice how his beetle friends and hummingbird neighbors hushed in admiration. your eyes filled with sympathy for the wings dried gently.