love is a soggy tea stain on a grocery receipt

If my life was the size of my arm, I would stretch it out for you.

we drove on through
the blue seal of morning as the turbines
turned and winked out their hearts

I am not a guide
for every traveler
of loss.

Listen to me: I know
the winter gloom in
mid-summer…

My grandmother asked, “Does it feel like being widowed?”

Try not to see your own predicament in every fucking thing.

I buy too much, for someone of my stature.
could pawn a skinny metaphor to purchase a plump skin.
its reputed in our lineage— to daydream a life that shreds our pockets.

Every so often, they add a tattoo
in honor of some long-forgotten love.

I myself should never have been born

Part of being a good sad person
is always painting the shadows
in the right direction and knowing
what sorrow to art with.

You are strange, my mother said, dwelling on the past.

I imagined a cascade of slow death for all / that mattered…

Should have found a job by now; should have slept in the night;
should have boiled old coffee before noon.

Mostly he ate what was put on his plate
snuck coffee grounds or dirt for a snack
Once a zipper Unzipped

I suffer visions and many indignities
while looking for the Lobster

Winter sat like a wolf
on the horizon.

In my universe, my arm carries a heart and flowers,
my back a misguided quote