that rare Sunday
where I find myself
without plans, an agenda
only an afternoon
stretching into infinity
that rare Sunday
is a glimmer
that lives in my eyes
my green wilderness
vines, creepers
peeping out of their
cautious corners
and in the silence of
that rare Sunday
I adore that you and I
are on our phones
not talking
not needing to
only filling this space
with a chuckle
reserved for dogs, cats
some ducklings and a llama
a song I just discovered
an intermittent ankle
on my arm
a new recipe
it is here
in this Sunday languor
and this meshing
of my world
within and without
that I’m yellow
Shoelaces undone
some have names, but most do not
Sunday, July 30, 2023
Friday, January 21, 2022
remember and rob
sometimes I crave
the friction of a new notebook
undecided
whether I have enough poetry
to be able to ink
through its daunting thickness
the friction of a new notebook
undecided
whether I have enough poetry
to be able to ink
through its daunting thickness
the truth is
I'd rather pour my heart
into pages that are going to be
forgotten tomorrow
like parts of me
scattered
across time
and geographies
I list out the digits
that mark today
reluctantly
almost as if I
want to remember
and rob this timelessness
in equal measure
but this - forever
being stuck
in paradoxes
in loops
but also endless playlists
is perhaps
as comfortable
and familiar
as it's alienating
how many instances
along time and space
can I point to
that felt exactly
like this
a lover's arms
home's windows
streets that had
scraped my knees
people who had
felt mine
this life
is nothing
but an act of
nerve-wracking
courage
some pluck it
from the bottoms
of whiskey bottles
and others from
withdrawing to
the pillows laid out
by their soul
only to emerge
as music and melancholy
Wednesday, November 11, 2020
failed states
the fairy lights are up
some evenings we visit
the bottom of a whisky bottle
some evenings we visit
the bottom of a whisky bottle
it seems like my
field of vision
has forever featured
the silhouette of
two attentive ears
taut, velvet
a constant jarring
is at work
like sandpaper
against my heart
wonder whether
it will come down to
making choices between
tempered chocolate
or war-ravaged towns
it's either too little
or too much
Saturday, July 11, 2020
cold sun
one night
when the only colour
painting the canvas
between the earth and the sky
is green
titillating
choreographed
when the only colour
painting the canvas
between the earth and the sky
is green
titillating
choreographed
a lone light bulb
casting shadows
of ascending lengths
while she sings of
the cold sun and the chill
of exhales
the heart is better for
the love it feels
the love that tears it apart
Sunday, July 5, 2020
paisley
drenched rainy clouds
hemmed into
the linings of my skirt
hemmed into
the linings of my skirt
greens around me
and my heart
heavy with
the groans of the sky
crying freedom
Monday, May 4, 2020
Tuesday, January 7, 2020
home and heartbreak
at some point
how I felt about love
was a song
it was against
rain streaked windows
red and purpled from
street lights reflecting
off of wet roads
it was in smells
that were at once
home and heartbreak
and in the
dusty, forgotten memory
of my mom
bursting into laughter
it was also in
a book I knew
I could never re-read
it's the stuff
that gushes out of my heart
on seeing Milo
comfortable within
awkward angles of my body
in loss
in sights that left me breathless
and in evenings with too much wine in them
love. there was love.
how I felt about love
was a song
it was against
rain streaked windows
red and purpled from
street lights reflecting
off of wet roads
it was in smells
that were at once
home and heartbreak
and in the
dusty, forgotten memory
of my mom
bursting into laughter
it was also in
a book I knew
I could never re-read
it's the stuff
that gushes out of my heart
on seeing Milo
comfortable within
awkward angles of my body
in loss
in sights that left me breathless
and in evenings with too much wine in them
love. there was love.
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