books that make me cry

words taper around the edges
of yellow-
green leaves glinting
in the sunlight
under underdeveloped apples
on the blankets
of afternoon
and leisure
stories slipping by
into the crevices of
grass, patchwork shaded
kaleiding
glazing onto ripened
hair and fingernails
moments of being alive
but mostly living

Inbox.

Your name has always been at the bottom of my inbox,
popping up again, and again, and again.

Deleted messages, important and not.
Notifications.
Altercations.
Vacations from face to face contact.

I leave your name there,
to reassure me that life is real.

How could I move you to the trash?

Or maybe, I just like the little flutter my heart makes,
when I read your name.

incomplete, tomorrows

entering
the dew sounds like bells
clear dawns

dreaming of
red pickup trucks
empty roads
sneakers fly for miles

soundtracks spin
gamboling guitars

packing
suitcases full of possibilities
as new as a bride's dress

carelessly
feet proceed
over cliffs