Light Garden

That was a spooky step

Some kind of 


Whirling me like a spinning top

A dreidel on warm wood

Make a cord

I stayed full, a friend close by

Repeat an obsession and it becomes a ratio to your world 

I do not like ratio talk,

I think of using either nausea or plums, 

or other soft sweet orbs

I miss the smell of blue on someone who is blissed out

But this ratio, Moths and me

It is pure trust, I see time in their spins

Dusty twin wings, the moths are at the moment we met

it is again 

and again it is normalized, like pear cake in your warm


I would take my cousins to the levee and call it the beach

Wet wake, a blonde plum.

A sherbert starfish smile shining from the West.

A magical trust blooms in the fertile behind-clouds

You can make me lie if you don’t know.

How do you remember those moments? 

Those minutes that I only think of

when I think of you 

Hurricanes, being seventeen in a Southern fall

The only monument I have to you 

are those blue-green clogs you ordered because you liked mine

sitting on your porch in their eBay package

Never opened 

I sat there at the bus stop in the green rain

I thought about how I would always be waiting for you

The dark licorice plums are ripening under their own magnetism.

Passing cars zoom by and they mirror

the deep personality of my stomach. 

I miss you all over again. 

I get on the bus

by Simone Kyle

Actually, I have two monuments to you. 

Besides the never-worn clogs, I listen to the David Holmes album you thought I would like.

I do.

I should not listen to it so much 

I should not forget you

I try to slip into the magical trust you have for me, still

A warm heart beats for you (all) and smells like your medication

I try so hard not to burst out Crayon Schemes,

you would interpret in your macro scale. Your cloud logic.

Do you want a visit, stay? 

Russ, do you miss feeling rolling marble?

Silent Disco 

The veil today is significant

Squirly brained 

This is the first time I have stepped outside today

It is wet and you are tracing lines in the Netto parking lot.

Today you are closer, like mail

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