Patrick Johnsonyou leave them leaning
against our door
in brown Wal-Mart bags
or in cardboard boxes
and we find them hours
after you've gone
every time I think
about how much
we spent talking
about different things
or how I sat in a chair
while you tried to reteach
me
on how to play the guitar
it feels like forever
sometimes
I wish you'd knock
come in
talk
like we used to
before it's too late
and like the rest
I lose you
for good
I stood outside in at the corner of my house where my favorite tree bows heavy with thick green while two birds fought behind me two slashes of white and blue while the clouds hung heavy in the sky pr
there are two ways to go about this first be quiet and let it sit deep on the inside while you stay passive so it forms a cancer in your throat that ruins all that is good or second take what it is sh
it's all held together by the golden ratio holy shapes the bees know this mundane thing becomes more than gods or purpose it becomes a miracle every waking moment constantly moving with an invisible d