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Starting out with a bang and a flash in the pan calling the kettle black

the ball drops, all the cliches, we eat it up like cupcakes then burst forth into January

chattering teeth through our smiles, whiskey for warmth? Yes and a kiss

and a skip and lets get lost while we’re at it 

into another year with the weight of everything we’ve ever known 

 

all behind which is easy to say, I’m such an idealist 

which is allowed, especially today 

when the night is ending and the new year beginning

and when I can't look straight into your eyes without smiling 

because you take up so much of my mind

​

my breaths huffing and puffing as we are walking

and everything like this has happened before I’m sure

but how nice to happen now with you at the start of a page

and trace the line all the way down or scribble 

back wildly back up the stairs back into the room 

 

back into the warmth back with a kiss back bursting forth 

January 1st

The colors surrounding the lake tonight, even if absent of the fireworks, were like melted crayon pastels painted before the eschaton advancing towards us like the chariot of God

the fireworks were still super bad ass tho 

4th of July

I’ll let the coffee waft waving through the house rich like 

    sunlight through cracks and slits and windows-

meanwhile Austen jets off to church (for salvation)

and Henry heckles a hundred dollars (for savings)

 

I think we are young and unsure of how to exactly

frame questions concerning the genuine laughter 

    and sudden fits of tears 

 (at least we all feel something similar). Across the street

 

two oak trees stand, and from Peter’s couch 

I have studied for a year as they have shifted

    with every season and color, yet remained steadily confident-

I don’t think the answer is there, but doesn’t it phrase the question

 

in a way that makes you say ‘yes, yes’?

I know that I am young and unsure, but I am becoming filled

with candor, and generosity, and strength, and appreciating

    something simple and enchanted, like this smell of sunshine 

 

mixed up with my cup of coffee. It isn’t just

dancing I hope for (I do), but I also hope to wrestle

with God for a blessing, to climb a ladder

    and awake saying “this place is holy” 

What's the Question?

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