
Beautiful Boy
In my line of work,
I get to see things
And hear things
That many people do not,
Will not, see and hear
Personal narrative: a genre
Used to tell one’s story
To put your truth into
The World, tell your
Life to the Universe
Of all living things
To say, to see,
To be seen
To listen
These are very tender
Moments—actions, braveries
Moves—today a young man
Quietly said to his classmates
Boys want to be Beautiful
Too, boys want to be
Given flowers and trust
And the opportunity,
To be Vulnerable
Boys want to
Be seen and soft
And before you scoff
Please know that to put
Eyes on this young man
He was “normal”
Which doesn’t exit
But he wasn’t some standout
He wasn’t crying to be
Noticed in a needy, cloying
Way he was sincere
Brown eyes shining
And serious, he said again,
Boys want to break down
Boys want to be treasured
And saved, and tendered
Boys are complex and
Layered, multi-faceted
And so easily shattered
So easily loved
Beautiful boy

Melt:
for the hottest October on record
things melt like banana
popsicles on hot sidewalks
hearts at the cuddle of
a tender puppy’s nuzzle
sun as it sherberts into sunset,
dreamy scoops of carnelian, fuchsia, crimson
water being sublimated into
sediment, becoming sludgy mud
metal silver when heated to one thou-
sand seven hundred and sixty-three degrees
falsity as you live in truth in the world
as it is, not as you wish it to be
light refracted and gloriously dispersed
through water into the entire color spectrum
butter bubbling, sizzling in the fry
pan in anticipation of the next repast
bodies into one another, warm
with the savior-vivre of desire

Sitting in Cars with Moms
Listening to music with abandon, shake it
Hearing a favorite podcast in a vacuum, rapt
Slumping over the steering wheel, emergency
Crying, tears pouring down cheeks, salty
Praying as if there is no tomorrow, apocalypse
Laughing raucously with a friend on the line
Changing the ka-billgionth diaper on the seat
Resting the eyes at the thought of dinner, cook
Wanting for a touch a hug a support, embrace
Kicking back the seat for a true nap, snooze
Reading a book while a child is at music lessons
Waiting for babies in the carpool line, patient
Scanning a prescription before returning to sickness
Sipping a drink in silence while ruminating,
Pondering the existential crises of humankind
Yodeling to an Oktoberfest hit, hot 100
Brushing back the hair, mustering a smile, love

Hope Feathered in Me Today
Rose like an owl in the dark
of night. Off on an important
measure. A simple key into what is
Take no more than you give.
On this day we celebrate
The now— the moment— what is
As it is what we have to celebrate
Looking into the moon-face of our children
Listening to their dreams. Holding
a lover after a frozen lamp-lit tramp
Into the pitch-dark night
Drawing lines across a page,
A stone, a landscape to remember
Each leaf outlined, sepia veins,
Each intricate brace of existence a
Falling into one another– hope







