with an idea
punctuated
by psychic daydreams
euphoric flashes
of stomach floating
I’m falling in love
with who I will be
comfortable
in my own skin
free words
with a big smile
I’m working on writing a thousand poems. I started in April 2015.
“turn around, little bird”
says the gardener
little bird turns and chirps
the gardener smiles and squawks,
“you are so beautiful, little bird”
little bird flutters away in a hurry
pixels float on a screen
deep blue and white hot
it’s the time in space
bouncing and twisting
move a muscle, it’s gone
stare and become one
wait for it to come back
skittish and temperamental
finally, here with exuberance
enjoy, breathe, wait some more
slow change but steady
watch it forever
edit undo
click pull
double tap
right click
copy paste
in a 7 by 10 foot room
we sit for an hour
you can’t breathe
you’re laughing so hard
we look at pictures
of you, you look 12
of me, you skip them
of the dog, she’s a dork
of the cat, he’s suave
of our mom, she’s cute
and then we leave
what is seemingly infinite
is disproved with a search
that far-reaching thing
we rely on every day
the Internet is limited
and occasionally, I see that

the cucumbers rise
soon they will block out the sun
scream! run for your life
subtle bubbles
we’re smiling
dense green like a forest
a collection of yellow swipes
blue scribble circles
I’m there
a fat and somehow triangular me
a haphazard brown helmet on my head
solid black ovals on my feet
my eyes are muddy dots
but I love it!
and put it in a box to look at later
everyday I write a poem
I want to start with “six”
should I be scared?