the perfect recipe

have drunken deep thought

count syllables on fingers

boom, it's a haiku

🥳

jumping waves

another suit

slipped, zipped

fit smooth & tight

skin for skin

watching the

tide roll in

each wave greets

a new swimmer

familiar to the sea,

waters lap & slide

past her fresh & 

ephemeral hide

but if the swells

calm, slow, show

the diver there's

room to survive

nude & disarmed,

unbreaking, unharmed

she will shed her suit,

buoyed by trust, brave,

peel down & bare skin 

untouched & fair 'neath

slippery illusions that hide

a self she saves

(but she's still keeping

a skin for the next wave) 

Alice (1988)

there's rain after Alice

washing away sawdust

of taxidermied rodents

& now there's a drum ritual

coming from the batting cages

have we fallen asleep

fallen asleep fallen

into her desk drawer

a memory of this film is

a memory of a dream is

a memory of a memory

and the raindrops trick our

arms into numbness, the ants

inside the sink are the last 

straw, I'm going to bed to

wake up & never watch this

movie again

Alice

⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

Definitely recommend 

a poem without words (translated into words)

nothing feels more

honest than silence.

I could fill the space

with noise & static 

~but~

thoughts scale down

to insufficient when

squooshed

funneled 

tiny into 

words.

~however~

if I could construct a 

wordless poem

(only the raw material)

exude this 

passion & pain

through stillness

(rather than 

demoting them to

letters)

well...

no one could

fucking read it

obviously.