"I contain multitudes."


E.e. Cummings - “i like my body when it is with your”

Copenhagen, baby, I love you.

Melt me down
into these cobblestones,
I don’t want to leave.

A Bar I Walked Into

Write whenever you’re
sort of drunk and
dry your beer slippery fingers on the
green velvet booth you’re 
writing (dreaming of) poetry on.

Notice the Spanish
speaking women next to you,
who are chatting about their
daughters who dated 
so & so,
about sales on clothing,
about their husbands who bought them
flowers the other day,
and so on.

Color in the 
lines on your fingers with a 
pen someone must have left behind,
remember the things they’ve
touched like
babies and 
muddy water and
other fingers.

Wanna talk about 
lakes you miss and 
cities that overflow with 
things that make you grateful?

Your 5 Boats

When you die
no one will remember
how big your salary was
or the diamond your mommy and daddy
bought you to put on your wrist
or your insta likes 
or your lake house 
that has seven whole bedrooms.

This place is beyond words. My heart is just the happiest it can be. I’m never leaving. 

I like wearin baseball hats
and drinking coffee in bed,
so my hair is always flat
and my sheets are always 
(I spill a lot when I
am reading and get distracted).

I’ve got a lot of 
scars on my feet and 
a freckle on my 
ass cheek 
cause the human body
is more weird than it is

Lately my ankles have been
scraped up and sometimes
which I like because it makes me
feel like an accomplished adventurer-
bringing my findings 
back home with me to
be washed down my shower drain. 

I wonder how long I’ll have
Copenhagen grit
loose in my shoes?

If I were born in 
another time,
I’d live in the woods and
draw pictures and write poetry about the 
nature and shit I saw.

But I can’t do that now
because my grandpa saved up 
a lot of money,
missed out on a lot of golf tournaments,
to send me to school,
so I guess I’ll 
educate the youth instead
(secretly tell them to 
screw college and 
live a little).

Fixed. theme by Andrew McCarthy