few things ever trump

arrested development

and carbohydrates

not really
hungry
the way I once was

to be back under the night skies

of New Mexico

roads lit by headlights

not much else

happy thanksgiving

eat until you feel guilty

and whatever else

happy thanks giving
i hope all my celebrity crushes
are not eating alone
with their dogs today

there exists chocolate beer

empty glass

speaks quiet, 96kbps

the skyrim silent, beep

x-ing boxes, hunting foxes

in every direction, my eyes close

with the knowledge that tomorrow

my curse will be replaced with blessings

I mean, food.

lately

i have been walking through

places i knew before,

soft and silent

hidden with sheets

and doors with peeling paint

aerial views of cities

below, lights—

distant and yet
so close I can almost feel
the breath of the people
who put them there

today is not a poem day
today is a start shit in a Big Lots day
and listen to Roads on repeat day
and laugh a lot day
and check his twitter day
and today is not a poem day

Something small

Rest among the yellowed leaves,

close your silent, powdered wings.

Footfalls soften you to dust, 

are you forgotten, lost?

Why didn't I come to see you die?

I couldn't hear your whispered cry.

A little body I lift up

and feeling nothing, let it drop. 

A bramble-wood of sticks,

emotions spent, but my action is this:

I bend down and tend a grave. 

Your unseen flutter, I see,

and live through thee. 

home is waking up suffocated by a cat

headphone cord noosed around the throat

cold and pulling thin sheets tighter

realizing your bedroom has become a storage space