Suspended Gravity

What a funny thing records are the needle on vinyl, tickling a songbird a beautiful tune, aged, you can see the lines its grooves and edges smoothed out the memories endure the feeling of a lived-in song living on inside your lungs wrapping its arms around your heart yet the record spins its way into eternity slowly fading to dust

Sometimes I wonder if poems carry memories the way songs are all my thoughts, feelings nonsensical dreams pressed in my heart ink and paper tucked in the corner page 14, collecting dust grease stains on the edges or maybe tears here lies my body lost in thought on my walk in the autumn air fresh from the kitchen the scent of sweet carrots covered in flour my satisfied stomach ready to walk off the heaviness inside c…

Slithering river your hissing stomach beckons claiming another

Breathe in the anticipation. She stands on the shoreline quiet and hopeful looking beyond the ebb, for a speckled black dot in search of home.

She stares blankly, hoping a silhouette will emerge across the pastel sky. For hours she stands, her trembling legs, her dimming glow she carves the seascape with her eyes every groove, facet, she has smoothed the edges yet nothing changes.  If distance wasn’t such an…

I am made of makeshift gunpowder ready to be ignited an explosion lives inside me hands holding back a supernova.

Green goddess growing arms reaching across the sky delicate yet brave

What I felt when I was in the thick of quarantine.

Hello silence, how I’ve missed you cascade and rustle, trees settle in the corner make yourself at home this is going to last a while peace never had so much volume 1,000 puzzle pieces sprawled across time I’ve never had this much what to do where to go I’ve reached the bottom of my endless to-do list and it’s 8am normalcy, or what I knew will never be I’ve been made obsolete put my pieces back together help me…

My city is overgrown its walls sunken into the vines of time drowning in skyscrapers covered in dust but the sun always peaks its head out through every alleyway

And when the stores close down and the autumn air pulls back the wallpaper its base layer is always a sunrise waiting for the right person to start painting

home has a different feel the mighty drum of the everyday is reduced to a rumble

Shhh, listen. Rattling, crackling, static Inaudible utterances Our conversations are dry He licks his lips He looks beyond me I stare and wonder. It fills the silence between us But not the space.