Written in 2017
New Year, New Era

Where in all these stars
Will you plant your soul?
Where will you take nourishment?
Where will you learn to grow?

Eternity exists
Only outside of your picture frame.
We are beautifully contained.
Happiness is a good ending, I promise.

Stretch, stretch yourself,
Against all the moans and groans,
Brought by physicality’s fear
Into the world you always wished to steer.

Ache and pull all your stories.
Flex your muscles, arch your skin.
Peel away the past, dried coagulum
And shout to begin again.

The first explosion pushes you onwards
To build an empire of self
Out of a mountain of something.
Sing, sing of the revolutionary spring.

Remember what is known was once mystery
And what will be is not yet written history.

Written in 2019
In a Coffee Shop. Jan. 16.

They serve fast food in the White House,
And I sleep with a machine hooked up to my nose.
Because I still need to breathe.

Millennials have been labeled “the Burnout Generation.”
I still struggle to floss my teeth regularly,
And there’s always dishes that need to be done.

I want to help Ocasio-Cortez “run train on the progressive agenda.”
Stop the planet from screaming, the homeless from freezing, the poor from bleeding.
I need to stop paying $7.10 for a cup of tea and a muffin.

Last weekend, I drove through part of a snowstorm.
White had just finished dusting all the trees and was slowly encroaching on the highway.
You couldn’t see the shoulder of the road anymore and pines barely peaked out.
It was beautiful.
And I hoped it would stop soon, because I wanted to survive the next 4 hours on the road.
I expect the rest of the year to be as wonderful.