love

Road trip

Poetry

I study your face

Closely and carefully

Like a fox in the snow

Noiselessly watching the hare

As it grazes and gasps with

Every small noise.

Peering from behind

A slick granite rock.

Amber eyes catch a shard of sunlight

In the cornea

And scream in brief squeezing silence

Against the radiance of the golden hour,

Which only arrives

When it wants

It never leaves;

But rather dissipates.

Until the night

Has breathed her sultry, misty embrace

Onto the navy landscape

With sighing grays and shy greens

Flashing by in the window

As we fly down the Sierras at 60 mph.

Fog thick as cream cheese forgotten

In the back of the fridge,

You watch the road

Biting your cheeks.

Forbidding others to pass.

Somewhere else.

Watching unresolved business

Remain unresolved.

grove of nasturtiums with trippy effect- photo by Tierney Brannigan

Write Drunk

Poetry

Write drunk
Edit sober.
Foamy words
Churning over.

I am sorry.
It isn’t me:
It’s the chemicals,
It’s the hormones,
It’s my damn body.

Lock the door
Keep me out
Hide the key,
Deserved doubt.

I really am sorry
I know that it’s tough
But I need your soft anger
When I’m feeling real rough.

Go do what you love
You do need that time
To be yourself, to escape
To leap away and to thrive.

I will watch the dog
She had a shit day,
Between going to the vet
And begging us to play.

Forgiveness. Forget-ness.
Love is not hippocampal,
It runs, walks, and falls
It wanders and rambles

I am grateful to have you
Somewhere secret I know
You are not the usual
Bone-headed beau.

I really am sorry
And I’ll try to do better,
For you and for us
For now and forever.

white jasmine shrub with trippy effect- photo by Tierney Brannigan

Distance

Poetry

Distance makes the mind grow louder,
Makes the heart grow prouder,
Makes my feet a little itchy,
Makes my stare a little bitchy.

Being far away from you
Used to feel kind of good.
You couldn’t touch me, or hear me
As long as I didn’t let you near me.

My space – my name – my life.
My freedom. My fears.
My safety – my body.
My fears.

I fell back in love with you
Just the other day,
It was love – it was drugs
It was our only way.

It’s good to feel close
And it’s good to feel you,
It’s good to be alone
In the room with you.

nasturtiums with trippy effect

Not Much Different

Prose

We haven’t slept together the whole month of November. And I’m starting to dream about what it feels like when you hold me.

In between alarms this morning, some version of you came to me and woke me up. I could feel your body, yes. But I could even feel your Feelings.

I could feel the love, as cliché as that sounds.

The way you cradled my head and propped the pillow up behind me was so sweet. I suppose it’s not much different when you’re actually around.