El Universo

I began making phone calls
To the universe like
Cosmic room service to prove
That god exists and I am within her.
Requesting small tips like:
Yellow t-shirts
Birds in flight
The late giggles of little boys in Spain
The stranger who told me
In caramel accents
That I was beautiful
That maybe we could be together.
I smiled into his
Constellation of teeth to say
I am alone, but this world
is overwhelmed with generosity.

Passaic, 6538

It’s all leather jackets and messy buns
Under fluorescent lights outside of Delawanna
We know we perfected urban cool
Smacking lips to punctuate conversation like
My boss is a fucking asshole
Wrapping smoke rings around these phrases
And leaving remnants of a strong womanhood
On pink tapered cigarettes
We run this shit and will tell you about it
While commemorating the goddess within on
A 10pm commuter train from Jersey’s unwashed industries

Poem #4

Sometimes the best way to be touched is metaphysically.
Between us, I crave this mental discourse
The one where you tell me all about my past lives
And how you knew me in Paris back when
The Dadaists were throwing roses on
everybody’s heads.
Or the time in Italy when I was carrying
Buckets of water on my hips
Letting the source flow from side to side
Mimicking the rhythm of women
Drenched in the green smell of basil.
If you could let me touch you and if you
Could believe that I saw that this is the first time we’ve met.
That this pairing is as new as the lives we put on
The last time we stepped forward from death
Maybe you could understand that it’s not
The touch of our of skin but
The way in which our worlds intermingle
That bring passion and a newfound delight
To the worlds that we’ll create
To the endpoints that we will travel
Powered by light and love and my
Endless reminder to speak directly to my soul
So I can hear you better.