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. Started on 4/4/26 Finished on 6/15/26 We Aren't Them Anymore Dark water barelled black during a week of lying low beneath rocks and behind curtains. Bright headlights dared to reveal crimson faces of sweat. Dark blue water crashed and eroded boulders of prudence juvenility elapsed and lust stirred the pipe dream. Our instincts shut down as we became molecules unintelligent and primitive on an island where the moon told time and we told no one. Haiku 6/15/26 The doorway stands still always a night of silence bad dreams never stop. Do You Doubt? Spring Won’t Come Snow falls and clots in April. frost glossed branches gleam as dusk settles over this range of density ground littered with icicle skeletons and aluminum cans cemeteries of what once dripped, fell, and shattered the lake sways an interpretive dance minute waves ripple ashore each minute To think! I once walked on water. woke to darkness slept the heavens s e t pink the ocean rode a synth oscillation she instructed: This. Write a poem of this. crows swarm the silver lining yet still- I hope still. The Lake (August 24th, 2026) Blue algae multiplied like hares on the wheat field I captured it but the photo was blurry you couldn't make out the dog in the distance the blue algae the sun dipping away. I morphed it in my head the way I wanted to see it. Loneliness Hides Under My Bed - August 24th, 2026 It didn't feel like you left when you left. I keep hearing about you. Like children hear about closet creatures and night dwellers. You exist in words said I'm sorry I wasn't brave enough to save you from scary hypotheticals You both have a lot in common. Like hypotheticals, you don't like hiding in a box. I swear and promise I'll never again trust the cosmic know-it-all. Even when it's over. Like a child I wonder. August 26th 2026 Sink the ship. It will be a mess. Debris Deformed Unrecognizable Sea, You Were Loved The vessel name? "Perhaps," They say as it washes ashore. Not a compass Nor cartographer could predict it- but sinking ships have a knack for washing up where they're supposed to. Quote from Ella: (August 27th) "There's capitalism, but at least there's love."