crazy

i didn't grow wings til my bones caught the wind
and the breeze offered height when it ran 'cross my skin
no more like the butterfly up on the shelf
whose wings are outstretched with a pin

i didn't have sight till i saw from the cliff
steps i had taken to climb over "if's"
no more like the rocks that crumble and crack
and cause the foot to slip

girl in white

the man squinted close, face so near the painting that his breath warmed its textured flesh
dare he touch the surface and know its colors as warmth on the tips of fingers?
know the shadows, ye man, and how they veil each color
know too the ridges that catch a glare of light to set colors into gilded folds
each gaze steals a stroke for yourself on retina and holds it in close

he turns his head
a moment too long

the man tilts his head
his eyes, unmoving take in the whole of an image out of his reach
you may not know, ye man
but watch how each color fills its role
with details that melt and shout together across a space of floor

and i will be

as i am

even as you leave the room with the imprint of my form submerged in the eyes that sleep open

the radio takes me back

a year ago i was soaking up as much Charlottesville as I could in preparation to leave a town i'd come to love.

a year ago I was hunting for the best Miley Cyrus halloween costume C-ville's thrift stores would provide

I ran about 9 miles a week and had a 5 mile run in mind as my goal.

i had soft curly hair that got shiny if I washed it with the right shampoos.

a year ago i wondered what all those songs meant

i bid

if you sip cider with me by the window in the coffee shop

for today that's all i need to love you

tomorrow I may need a hand to hold,
or I may need space
to stride as a proud young woman

but today i could be madly in love with any of you who buys me a hot apple cider
and sits with me by the window
in the coffee shop

I took Ryan Adams with me on my run this morning in air I could tell was cool, even as my body heated up.
His voice suits a gray sky and a hill full of the good people of Millersburg resting in the ground beneath their monuments.
My obsessions collide. I spend my days chasing words and here a string of them slipped in and snagged on something: "I taught myself how to grow 'Til I was crooked on the outside, inside's caved"
I glanced down at the sleek little machine in my hand as tough "Title, Album, Artist" would tell me anything more about the sad man behind this curtain: this song.
If I can't have my beloved moon on such runs, I'll simulate her as best I can through the music I feed my halloween-head.
Ryan Adams, you glow sad as the moon and that terrifyingly honest lostness of home screams in your harmonica

i think i'm in love with Ryan Adams.

the streets

who will welcome me home tonight
what lonely article of setting and what washed out hint of color
sad reminders i welcome instead of fight
despite the grip i have on my lip with my teeth
pressure-white like knuckles
"come on something, pull up a chair"
"something" the man or "something" the mood
Lord knows i've seen glimpses of you
out in the current
glancing up from my pages
peeking out of the confessional in distracted moments
to see the dancers and drinkers
the thieves and foxes in all their colorful glory
i'll string them as beads around my neck and feel them drum heavily on my collar bone
running turns to spinning. wolf becomes old friend
sing little one, the belligerent Hallelujah of the market place
forget the empty chair at home. It loves you not
watch from painted eyes that catch questions for only a moment then release them to flight
melt wax strings glistening grease for the sun to swallow and cleanse with hot, fevered mercy
the confetti will not stick
open your arms to this sky that is not empty
welcome to your blessed away
your glorious elsewhere home
Hallelujah little one
your God has been awake forever

the rooftop

you won't always have this rooftop
one day you'll find a quiet second to break the din of the followers
and you'll want nothing more

than what is no more