Do you remember 

late night cold weather bittersweet 

cold feet and sadness

trying to keep yourself warm,

Long winter is over

and now you’ve warm weather, long evening

free smell of lilacs


and you know it doesn’t last forever but god damn,

the lights of the city from eagle’s nest perch Gold Camp Road make you feel infinite

You’ve got summerboy

his hands feel like sandstone red rock monoliths, they’re strong

he is summertime Snow and smoke tricks

he makes you feel miles above the ground, small plane kind of free

you love the way his voice goes soft around the edges when he talks about flying

distant from reality, 

maybe he’s becoming reality

safe in a dangerous kind of way

and now you’re driving a little faster, playing your music a little louder

sleeping with the window open

funny how that happens.


28 May 2014

July 20 (1:16 am)

July 20 (1:16 am)

July 20 (1:16 AM)

I’m in a constant state of “want”

I very rarely “need”

quite constantly there is someone to be missed or some adventure to be yearned for

it’s never enough and at times

that can get pretty lonely

like those hot summer nights with only the crickets as a reminder that you’re not the only living thing in the world

and sleep is simply not an option

not wihtout some sort of chemical assistance

it can get pretty lonely feeling pretty empty feeling like

nothing to see outside of these four walls it’s dark

but I’ve got to say I wouldn’t have it any other way not even when I realize that my chosen ambition my preferred institution has recently been determined

‘most expensive’

I don’t ever want to let the fear of years of loans or debt keep my dreams at bay but it’s more than a little intimidating

Some nights it can feels like the well’s run dry like

I’ve used all my words all the poems in my brain have been wrung out

when pen flails nothing but lines nothing but scribbles

can’t give up on that dowsing rod

Just as a man in the desert dies without water so too will my eternal soul


if ever I stop trying to write

Healing Poem

Yesterday I felt so overwhelmed the pressure building in my chest in my skull unable to breath unable to speak that I took a blank piece of paper, Crumpled it up tossed it in the sink took a match to it watched it burn
I can’t describe to you the beauty it took my breath away
I didn’t think about you for a minute
Until it was nothing but ash in the garbage disposal
Dizzy is a good substitute for hollow
Two steps forward one step back
I’ve been subsisting on songs letting the lyrics fills me up because most nights,
I get so hollow it hurts
Had we had a blood transfusion I don’t think I could have given you as many of my
Secrets confession fears ideas and idiosyncrasies
As I did
I’m not sure that anyone except my mother has seen as much of who I really am as you have
You broke off
And I don’t understand why
There’s a ringing in my left ear I’m disoriented because I don’t know what you’re thinking
I feel

I wrote it all down.
Packaged my thoughts into ink in spare moments this is a poem woven of pain
Composed in spare moments scribbled on bookmarks in lonely classrooms
Added to line by line
Each time I woke reeling from a dream of you
Each time I watched a too familiar movie and it made me cry
Each time I found myself singing along in the same way that you did
You see I’ve discovered new mannerisms you’ve left your mark left a little bit of yourself in the way that I listen to music
and tell a punch line
I hope I did the same for you I hope you still think of me sometimes

This is a healing poem.

I’ll write down these things that I wish I could say to you
these things that I think all the time thumb hovering over the send button
only to close the phone
Then I’ll share it with strangers on stage
Let these broken heart emissions out into the air
to relieve some the pressure.

We both know what it is to perform
I once told you that I first learned to trust you onstage
Because there is very little that is more intimate
than whispered encouragements under stage lights

This is a healing poem.

And I’m still in a lot of pain
Still finding myself short of breath a lot the simple truth is I miss you.
And I still wish things were different
But I’m thinking that maybe I’m starting to get a little better
maybe one step forward two steps back is the way to do it
This is a healing poem.


This is not a new poem, but I’m reposting it in full because I recently had the privilege of being reminded of the cathartic and healing quality that writing and sharing poetry has.


We are nothing but breath

boil us down

reanimate us

Inhale, exhale

I’d like to capture for you bittersweet

Because the feeling I get it reverberates in my ribcage and I think that it might just send me over the edge

Read More

To the boy in the coffee shop,

I’m getting a little dissatisfied

with prolonged stares and lowered tones

Hey, you there 

I’d like to share a hot coffee with you some chilly evening

it rains a lot at night, lately

I believe that you might have an Artichoke Soul

and I’d like to peel back your leaves and scrape my teeth on your psyche,

let my fingertips trace the interior of your cerebral cortex,

Show me your Views.

Let me follow your trains of thought into unknown terrain,

pass your opinions from your lips to mine

Boy, you fascinate me.

Take my hand, I’ll show you mine if you show me yours

You and me, let’s have us 

a Conversation.

Artichoke Soul

Dignity dictates that I should be over this,

over you.

Over early morning blue-light before-the-birdsong sense of loss

over the fight-or-flight responses 

at familiar songs that evoke familiar memories

stunned into still silence like prey,

cornered by opening notes

My dignity dictates that all this should be in the past

But I can’t seem to find the juncture where “is” becomes “was”

And I’m coming to the conclusion that there is no such thing as

"back to normal"

We are forever altered by the transfusions we share with one another

Direct IV line from my soul to yours,

trade my 

thoughts secrets confessions fears ideas and idiosyncracies

for yours

You can’t hit “rewind” on that kind of process

See, “back to normal” does not exist for me

or you

or anyone else

Because I will never again hold that piece of me that I gave to you

and that’s okay,

because I know that it sits in a drawer in your bedside table 

between your grandfather’s watch and half a box of condoms

And It’s Okay.

I think it’s a shame that we are told to live life

as if we’ve never been hurt by somebody else,

and we never notice the scars that others bear

too preoccupied in hiding our own

I don’t believe in Soul Mates,

because I find it kind of hard to believe

that there could be just one person in this world

who could offer you something Important.

Maybe we’ve all got souls like artichokes,

and if you want to really know someone

then you’ve got to peel back their leaves,

scrape your teeth on their psyche

Artichoke Souls.

Untitled Love Poem

I wrote a love poem last summer, and I just re-read it. 

And it’s a good poem and to me, it holds a lot of meaning and memory but really it’s kind of a blank slate, a fishpond or a sky full of clouds that anyone could look at and see their own story. 

I also realized that I’d never named it.


Untitled Love Poem

Lately I’ve been inspired

Inspired to think and feel like never before

Emotions like little embers pulsing sunset colors inside my beating heart burning holes in the lining exposing my soul to yours

But I don’t mind

And usually that would scare me terrify me paralyze me shock me into fight or flight mode but dear boy,

You’ve got me in fight and flight mode

I tell you I want to fight off the world push it back away from my face fly off with you into the fuzzy edges of the night sky until it’s just your warmth and mine

All we need is echolocation and thermal vision because I’m starting to feel this connection forming between us right here like little girl braids woven into spontaneous friendships but stronger

A lot stronger

Because it’s made of unburdened confessions covert kisses in the dark and fingers linked stronger than chains,

I want a lot of things, these days

This heart of mine was just a motor for my bloodstream until you walked up to me and near about tore it out of my chest I told you

You could do a whole hell of a lot of damage with that thing if you wanted to

And you just said

I will treasure your heart like I treasure my air and my water,

Like those elements my love you are my


And it sounded cheesy but I melted from the inside out all the same’



Have you ever felt your heart expand to bursting


kind of sensation

at a song

played too loudly

on your headphones?

It occurs to me,

“This is bad for my ears

my eyes

my neck

my liver

my brain chemistry

my sanity

my psyche”

It occurs to me that maybe I don’t care

Because baby,

I love the spins and

I never want this song to end and


there’s not a whole lot else to say