The Bricks Lay Themselves

when i close my eyes,

the bricks lay themselves,

cobble stones rise like goose bumps,

curbs dig in like dragging feet,

lights twinkle,

windows flap over the walls like perched birds,

their curtains draw themselves in with pencil,

steel grates twist into the sidewalks,

the neighborhood walks out their doors,

down the porch,

and extends a hand to me

sitting in the middle of the road,

leading me upstairs to the apartment,

where my loves and friends are dancing to the record player,

i am hugged,

and they pour me a drink

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tripping over the door way.

spilling my beer,

that joke i told made you fall out of your chair

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the way you stood on your toes to kiss me,

the way you would pirouette in your socks on my hardwood floor,

the way you broke up with me over text

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My Cup Runeth Over

with paper lungs,

with Idle Hands,

and with cobwebs from the corners of my room

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look i know,

it’s frankly because i started doing this as a teenager,

and the quality out here goes up and down,


if you’re looking for more mainstream stuff,

it’s there in the beginning of the posts,

angry sad poet face man,

he’s all there,


i like to think now

i at least lean back into the booth at a diner,

throw my legs up on the seat

and act tough some of the time,


winking out my left eye

because we both know that’s not me anyway,

but we also both know i’m really talking to you,


so what i mean to say is maybe the mushy stuff is being pushed out,


over a period of years,

starting at 14,

and going on and on and on,

fuck (sips soda from straw)

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Less like Rain

it is less like rain,

than the poets insist.

it is not entirely

like a mirror antagonist,

but the voices are real,


it does feel like a weight,

as if you have been strength training your whole life,

but they never let you take the vest off.


it is a long day,

in broken shoes,

hours from bed,

miles from your car,

no cash for the cab,


my chronic illness is the feeling that i am waiting on a subway train,

that if i leave the station it will arrive and go without me,

persistently feeling that it might never show up anyway,


leaving just doesn’t matter,

because you can’t walk to the place i’m trying to go

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there was shelter in your arms,

in your fingers laced,

sitting on my crown,

the palms of your hands resting on my cheeks,

elbows resting on my shoulders


it rains in the sunshine,

it rains in the night time,

it rains under cloudy skies,

and it rains underneath my forehead,

under my eyelids

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