you saw specks of light, fireflies,

falling through the air under the

street lamps, illuminated by the

headlights. but they were only

falling leaves.

they were just as beautiful.

you remembered that you

are human. there were two

accidents on the same road,

different cars, one on the way

there and one on the way back.

it gets dark so early and why

does that instill a terror in you?

you were reminded that you

are your own person, that

your existence does not depend

on another. the barista recognized

you, and - human kindness -

you were seen. all it took was for

him to ask you what's on your

jacket, and recognize the water

lilies on your wallet.

human minds are simple and

stupid. you were pleased, you

felt better about being alone.

you're not just a body or a

floating mind, and you've

always felt safe here, among

your people, in a coffee shop

you're moving away from.

you are not an accessory.

you have free will.

you do not lose personhood

because you are alone.

words were easy, you were alive.

things fell into place: you knew

where to look, even when you're

a little blind. you were brave in

ways no one else finds brave.

you found a friend, two, three.

you were not alone, you did

not drown. the stars came up,

the moon peeked through the

rainclouds, you parked your

car on the same street as the

person you knew the most, the

reason you'd crawled out of your

house in the first place. and in

the rain, he said a quick casual

bye, like it wasn't the last time

you might ever see each other

again.

sometimes you are too scared

to live, and sometimes

the universe gives you a hug

in the form of strangers

because it is ok, you are alive,

and you, alone and together,

are human.

11.14.24

parts of me , flecks of skin ,

want to shape this earthly body

into a shape that fits yours

in the heat death of the universe

i want to still be able to

hold that shape , want to still

love you like i always did

what if

my head doesn't always fit

on your shoulder ,

what if

it barely even stays on mine

i don't want the song lyrics

circling in my head to come true ,

not when we can sing about

the warmth of your arms instead

we stare into silence , but

that doesn't mean a thing

everything else means a thing

the way you look at me

means a thing , it must ,

it must on a universal level ,

because otherwise what is this

sometimes i wonder if

i fall in love too easy ,

even if it's rarely love and

so uncommon i don't

even know what it means

when time runs out ,

when the earth can't spin

any more , tell me you'll

still be trying ?

11.12.24

i am acquainted with monsters;

how do i know you're not one of them?

i am blind

and i am stupid.

life is perpetually not what it seems.

i seem happy, but who am i?

it breaks my heart.

i break my heart over and over again,

wondering who you are. picking at the

dirt on your soul and trying to see what's

underneath, please, let there be more

underneath.

giving you up would break my heart.

none of it was a secret,

and jokes are rarely jokes.

which just means i can only blame myself

for lying and deceiving myself. for

pretending that any of this is ok.

ok?

maybe it's unfair.

but that's what i hate about myself.

i am weak, and malleable.

i do not stand up for my people.

i can barely stand up myself.

it breaks my heart.

it breaks my heart.

naïve . eyes like shiny seashells .

you don.t see what you choose

not to see .

so . what do you desire . the

love of another or for their

mind to pulse at the same

rhythm .

how long can the sailor hide

his rowboat from the storm .

when he's traveled so far as

to no longer see the shore .

stranded forward . stranded

backwards too . left with a

single lantern still lit .

you believed you could have

what only the gods may have .

you believed the lantern

would be enough to guide

you . you are alone . you

are stranded . you don.t know

who you are without this ocean .

naïve . tired . and terrified of

using the oars to reroute .

you must . the saltwater is

bitter . it splits your tongue .

young. heart swollen as the

sun . too reckless and too

careful . built of deep sea

sand and shiny blue shells .

using the oars to reroute .

you must .

Orion,

Do you ever feel like two people? No, a hundred; a thousand? Do you ever think that freedom comes at such a cost, and that happiness does too?

I say, where does who I am end and who I become begin?

I am, in many ways, myself. But even that is everchanging as the reflections on a rippling water's surface. Constantly influenced. Constantly adjusting to the circumstances. Should I hold my own a little more? Should I be who I am or who I become?

In some ways, I am everything. All knowing, all powerful. King of my own destiny; maker of ideas and my own world. And yet none of it comes to fruition without people, or earth, or day, or night. Should the daylight take hold of me, I am one being. Should the night, I am another. It is the same of those around me. My face a mirror, a ripple, just light glinting off the edge of glass. Bouncing effortlessly from one state to the next.

I readjust. I am many people and many faces. One who is joyous, one who is tired. One who believes strongly, one who is weak. One who is adventurous, one who is cowardly. I have changed, and I no longer can distinguish selves from other.

There are two minds. Rational; dream. What the rational mind knows the dream mind rejects. What the dream mind conjures the rational mind denounces as impossibilities. I live in a thin space between the two, where both come to me, pleading, and I, knowing nothing and having no assurance, sit idly by and make rash judgements. I cannot be governed by either. For the rational mind rules with fear, and the dream mind with hope. Reality sits with me in between.

Who am I to deny a dream its influence? To let the promise of something beautiful be enough to wrap my fingers around it, grab it, let it drag me to its natural end. It sounds easy until the rational chides me. There is nothing so beautiful as to be worth the cost. There is no action without an opposing reaction. There is no such folly equal to following what is unproven; what is only a dream.

I am torn in two, or four, or eight. Continuously and indefinitely. Each face not recognizing the other. I am more soul than body, more space than presence. There is no end to what has no beginning.

Forgive me, I have written with no end in sight. I seek answers no mortal can give. Just know that I consider everything just so. And that for that, I am aggrieved. In this world I may only take one action per decision, and I handle each carefully. Forgive me, then, if I make the wrong one.

Yours truly,

Artemis

he said autumn's the best season to be in love. it's true that it's the most romantic, or, seems like it anyway. walks, hand in hand, through the ever-changing leaves. a muted color palette, and the coziness that comes from temperatures just a little cooler. i like to listen to fall music from the 60s; it's all about falling in love, enjoying the weather, how lonely hearts drift and want for another. so sappy. in the best way.

it felt like fall today, in every way. i baked cookies; the air was chilly; i'm still in love. some days everything's ok. i'm still afraid of the planet spinning, but i'm alright for now. i think too much, but i never decide anything at all. head full of loose piles of fall leaves and nothing else, sometimes. i caught the sunset out my window. opened the blinds and then closed them again, like an eye blinking, to watch the pink sky.

i like wearing tall socks to keep in the warmth. i like how he smiles when he knows he's in love, when he looks at me. i'm sure i have a smile just the same, it's just that i don't know mine, wouldn't recognize my own face. my ears get too cold, and i'm thinking i'll need to start wearing hats because i want to walk every park in the city during fall. i want to see every leaf before i go. before they go. i like feeling the weight of his arm over me, the comfort that he's there. we watched a show i used to love and i sang the theme song. the nights are long and warmer with him. the days still drag, the sun still cackles at my back, hidden, because i don't look at her. i want to know if autumn is the best season to be in love, but the only way i'll ever know is to be in love every other season as well. i want to. i want everything i've never wanted before. i want autumn walks and days and nights and warm drinks, telephone calls, long dresses, nose kisses, weekend cafes, silly keychains, reading side by side, blankets up to our necks, dinner with friends, strolls in the dark, leaves under our feet. this time, i want it all.

-

10/14/24

like water lilies

across an open pond

holding the heart

of the cosmos

just beneath the surface

rippling, trembling water

surely nothing

compared to falling

from the sky

flames racing to engulf

this precious heart

floating to the surface

tired

the sky knows not who it is

or where it ends

or where the water begins

the universe becomes alive

as never before

and releases song after song

in longing, in loving,

in losing

everything perfectly alive

10/13/24

this world isn't mine.

i've got one hand buried in the ground,

holding the roots of the peach tree

planted so many times over in the

backyard of my parents' house.

one foot here, in an apartment

that no one visits unless you're

staying the weekend, arms full

of new-plastic-smelling board games.

an ear in a newlywed's white house;

half my face a few states over on

the phone screen of a girl i grew up with.

a few fingers still in a cabin in the woods

somewhere.

a crescent of my soul across the country,

in the closed eyes of a forest i've never been.

teeth, scattered at the doorsteps of

relatives i remember and forget.

one foot firmly placed in the side of a lake,

ankles enjoying the waves,

skin soaking in the sun.

my heart, firmly tied to a rusting door hinge.

to the trunk of a beat-up car.

to the feeling of being and unbeing.

committed to getting torn apart.

all mine, and not a shred of it belongs to me.

9.27.24

it is the fire of the dragon

taken up residence behind my heart,

between my lungs, and deep

within the recesses of this flesh

i call my own.

intoxicating, intricate rhythm.

unique to you; unique to me.

i would carve you a home if you

didn't have one, house the

earth-worn clay you own underneath

the shade of the eastern trees.

even now the skies drip rain,

but the moon rises, as it always does,

and presses kisses to my forehead

just for seeing another night.

we are taken.

deep within the forest, in the worm-laden

grasses and the half-eaten cherry trees.

an imperfect eden, and we will

find our own shadows, one day.

but for now, take me.

common words in common places

my car smells like sugar flowers

sweet as the sight of you through a doorway

ghosts wander through butterfly gardens

and the stone gods watch, larger than life

- the fantasy is us together -

pinned like insects against the wall

tea stained pages, double dip,

books that have touched a thousand eyes

i want every forest to know you,

every rock to feel the memories through my feet,

seep into the dark earth below and

grow tiny flowers or crisp leaves or rough bark

that remembers this love

and tells the stories to the wanderers

long after our time has passed