Grieving


Gives you

So many
Places
To sit

And
Lie down

You never
Would have

Considered
Before.

—-

The floor
Is the oyster
And you
Are the pearl.

Lounge in
Your Developing
Opaqueness
Of mourning

  • All morning.

—-

Let the
Still Monotony
Monopolize
Your
Every pause.

How much
Freezing
In your
Liveliness

Has yet
To Be
Unlocked?

Loom over
Corners
And floors
Of your
Waken life,

Like a sloth
Does
tree branch.

—-

Gaze into
The void of
Each moment.

You Are
the Translucent
Being of Space
And time;

For now,
But not
Forever.

“Sorry, I Do Not Know What I’m Doing”

I was
unknowingly
waterlogging
this plant.

The
tendency
to suffocate
in place of
nurturing

comes
naturally
to me.

when it
arrived,

i sat it in
direct sunlight

causing
it’s leaves
to dry out,

brittle,

and
fall off.

i stuck those
dead parts
under it’s
living ones,

so they
could lay
together.

“maybe,
this
Could be
good for you,”

i bet it.

i went to
water it
again today,

but I
found it
[already]
swimming

in my excess
attention.

to change
my ways

i gathered
it’s dead,

lifted inner
plastic shell
from
ceramic vase;

freeing it
to breathe
again

from my
overcompensated
attempts at love,

and apologized.