Tag Archives: summer

rusty mailbox

you’ve got that

american blue in the very pits

of your iris,

and sometimes it feels

almost electric

but i know i’ll just end up

with a black eye if i

keep on staring

i’m not usually this brand of rude

but i can’t help it

if i’m cliché suckered

by that beach-at-early-gentle-dusk

kind of blond,

figure i could still taste

sea salt in my throat if i inhaled

hard enough

maybe you’re afloat

waiting for

a false breakwater romance

drowning siren song

with a hateful kinda endearment

and speaking of

you hate sports and my visual arts

but you like virtuous

green heroes

and staying up for 38 hours

and i like monochrome serial shows

and the number of

sweets i could still spell out

if i threw your full name

in an anagram machine and let it

run wild, here’s one:

cotton candy

maybe that’s no fun for you

don’t worry, it’s no fun

for me either

but it’s always fun to dream a bit

afternoon stargazing

spitting grey fur

overthinking about it some more

buttercup, that’s not one

but i quite like it pinned on your hair

if you won’t mind

i don’t live near a garden

but we could always find some way

or another

to quote a reference

for something

you probably don’t listen to—or do you?—

i’m never gonna see it

all in bloom

because now

it’s almost late spring

(summer ’round my axis)

and not fantasy football season

and i think i love you

all the same

so maybe i’ll just stretch

out my stiff spine

write a generic letter with no

return address

and turn the unplugged television on

just to see how it all

pans out.

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Filed under Poetry

Rise and shine, sleepyhead

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Good morning, sunshine.

You are a slow sip of icy coffee on a sweltering summer day, sweet and bitter and decadent and satisfying all at the same time. The yawning sun is barely peeking out of the horizon, still playful and forgiving; bathing you in childish glows and warm reverie. Life is nothing more than a bite of honey-dipped pastry and freshly-made ham and cheese sandwich, a shared table with an aged stranger, a silly dream full of friendship and fast times and flirtation—life is nothing more than fleeting polaroid snapshots of blurry smiles and quiet contemplation. Now melt the ice between your teeth, let the chill run down your lungs, and let the wandering words on your pen speak for themselves.

It is only morning, after all, and the universe is still quite hazy. Breathe it in. Make it last.

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Filed under Prose

circling infinity

colder nights

where i wish

your limbs

are intertwined

with mine

summer snowfall

cotton fibres

wandering

empty branches

all over again

vast meadows

for ancient souls

to rest on

fragrance of

inkstains and dying

strawberries

breeze whistling

haunting melodies

but i stay away

from noisy static

and i listen to

a smiling song,

hidden blush

distractions

oh, i don’t mind

messy clouds

clearing up

a splatter

of shy stars

slowly make way

for a painted

embrace

fairy lights and

oceanic laughter

lying in wait

a soft illusion

of hyperrealisms

and misplaced

daydreams

fell dryads of life

neither mine,

nor yours

our transience

taking chances

still fighting

against control

and colours

and this violent

riot of frigid

chemicals

blissful nothing

smitten euphoria

an oxytocin kiss

for a love that

won’t exist

in a future

vespertine or

less miserable

than a cold night

all alone,

contemplating

sombre and lost

picking dead grass

from high tops

and sweaters

and tangled veins

gently hoping for

a vacancy, yet

unraveling at

the harshest thought

of somebody else

interlocked with

your limbs

arms and legs

talks and lips and a

puzzle of bones

and reposing bodies

tranquil hush

whispers of blue

fading away

and falling down

keeping all of your

warmest nights.

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Filed under Poetry

Postcards From Crystal River

you are the open window in an elsewhere, rustic, countryside summer

where drowsy bumblebees rest contentedly by the pollen-speckled glass

and little emerald drops of shy foliage sometimes dare to cautiously peek in

before the shooing breeze languidly billows them all out to heaven knows where

.

luminous sunshine glows ardent on tan skins and pales against cotton curtains

a curious puppy might loll its head lazily about and bark at scampering squirrels

and the sticky rose vanilla soda gives way to the thawing rivulets down my blouse

perhaps i’ll rise from my wicker chair and have a nap soon—or perhaps just five more minutes.

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Filed under Poetry

distemper

heatstroke

urges resisting

chewed-up mind

simple cavity

extraction

.

ink blots

surface haze

tension; still

hold, hold, hold

eruption

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Filed under Poetry

a cup of warm tea; and the aftertaste of trauma

Sometimes I feel cold, even paralyzed
My interior world needs to sanitize
I’ve got to step through or I’ll dissipate…

~*~

the bitter of tea, the tang of lemon—and that subtle hint of summertime sweetness, melting into my tongue in one drowsy haze.

paint-stained hands clutch at the warm mug for dear life, and i take tentative sips and let the aromatic seasons dance around my mouth a bit, as if this very dark liquid itself was my final tether to this plane of existence.

perhaps, in some ways, it quite is.

the effect of sleepiness arrives to swoop me back in sluggishly, allowing me to momentarily lean back and stare blankly at the faces on the wall, all eager teeth and pastel craft paper, curling and fading all the way to wandering oblivion; but only a single smile really captured my absent mind’s attention. i wryly picture how it would look against later impressions of dirty blonde and crystalline azure, peeking rather shyly behind deep laugh lines and a few animated freckles peppered across pale skin, endearingly elusive.

sinking in; and sinking still. the effervescent mania that violently grabs me by the shoulders and dares to push its reckless fingers right in the middle of my tender ribcage, refusing to cease digging around until it finally hits something vital. lung, artery—the unfortunate heart itself, perhaps?

but—as i am melancholically assuaged—i am sure it will find only a hollow cavity where a beating organ used to rest. disappointed? not really. i’m painfully aware that already long ago have i been deemed one of the young naivetes who willingly sold it away, to someone who didn’t even know they were searching for damaged antiques. i practically gave it away for nothing.

and yet, where is it now?

is it gathering cracks and dents in someone’s mantlepiece, within a dusty old bungalow? is it buried lost under a child’s messy closet, along with broken toys and past innocence and all their other outgrown things? perhaps, has it already been traded away by its secondhand owner without a brief hesitant thought or a pause of chagrin, in exchange of a better, prettier, newer one?

ah, no matter…no matter. i no longer feel it anymore, anyhow.

cosmic snapshots. a feline grey and glimmering yellow eyes. lilting snatches of an unwritten song dedicated to the moon. murky rain dripping rhythmically from the plastered holes on the ceiling. a perfect pink photograph more potent than any flavour of tea or dosage of coffee, keeping me up well into the witching hours and then some. just another wordless poet. just another tired pen.

your bitter blue. my summertime sadness. the promise of morning, and nothing else.

~*~

And you know
You’re a terrible sight
But you’ll be just fine…

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Filed under Prose

Pacific Transit

Spare a few seconds to bring my soul back to life

I’ll take the time to grasp onto your slippery thoughts

Go cry me a river, we’ll save it for next summer

For now, we’ll sleep in hazy hemispheres that skies forgot

.

Will this be more than a yawning afternoon soapbox love?

There’s no reason to believe if the whole world’s watching

I guess there’s something in your face, the way your smiles fall short

Beneath your callused fingertips, no such thing as a happy ending

.

Will a quiet embrace convince you to settle down and breathe?

Facsimiles of youth painted on dewdrops and plastic evergreen

If I really tried, can I find an oasis beneath the muddy puddles?

Should we pick up where we left off, or leave nothing but a dream?

.

Take a moment to set the scene; oh it’s fine, we’ll be here all night

From basement lights to firework flights, time’s shrinking with the tides

That touched our gentle skins and left bruises for strangers to count

For now, we’ll laugh like nothing matters, we have the weather on our side.

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Filed under Poetry

idle

fending away the flies

in this miserable heat

seconds spin sluggishly

routine feels discrete

.

finding a final flight

in the middle of a beat

minutes missing endlessly

routines fast deplete.

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Filed under Poetry

tasteless skittles

how is your voice so incredibly exquisite?

i wish i could keep it—i wish i could keep it all for myself but i know that’s just a dumb dollar-store daydream now. i swear i’m not senselessly selfish but i couldn’t help all these hysterical feelings, fleeting and fumbled, collapsing and careening, swelling and spilling beyond my exhausted arms but i’m not tired of you yet; though every unsolved puzzle piece i propose to pick out is so pleasantly problematic.

you’re so weird, but i like that.

maybe it’s just blunt deception soon dropping dead to distance. maybe we’re both meant for nothing more than a peck on the cheek and passive-aggressive complacency. maybe i’m the popsicle puddle melting forever in your sweetest summer sadness—but i won’t be watered down. and i won’t hold you back. if you’d just wait a little bit longer, then maybe will turn into…

something else?

and i’ll be the one singing for you, this time. and you could keep it. you could keep it all for yourself. i won’t mind, i promise. it’s always been yours.

because—dearest applebee, you’re just so;

you’re just too incredibly exquisite.

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Filed under Prose

A Summer In Saturday

A van packed with people

For a road trip in the dark

Spiraling with laughter and

Going around missing marks

.

Excursions set to weird luck

Trying to chase away the heat

And the languor creeping in

Won’t let this vacation be beat

.

Kicked up sand on gritty feet

Sudden blackouts set the scene

Chill as water, lips taste salty

Splash and splutter, call it mean

.

Kill the calm and the crowd

Noise on stereo, sodium glitter

Keep the stars and insanity

Smile for a picture underwater

.

Impulsive plans laid to stake

But we’ll keep faith under the moon

Home’s still a distant memory

And morning cannot come too soon

.

For a weekend settling tempers

A quick ocean swim to cool it down

Before the sun turns to shadows

And chaotic daylight comes around.

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Filed under Poetry