groundbreaking

refugees don’t lose everything
breath stays
and bones don’t break
they still know the truth

the urge to throttle rises upon
hearing of their losses, but
they walk away
even when nothing
nothing, nothing, ever, ever
could be more desirable
and they know it
and will never not know it

they veil the truth
more and more cleverly
to tell it less and
less pitifully

refugees lose their assumptions
leap from the sinking
raft and live
clinging to the rope, to the
high road
and then look down and see all those things
slide through the slats
and sink into the sea
all the things they’ve lost

but it’s not everything
it’s not even close

falling back

flames burn to pursue
and i just couldn’t tell you
why there are three separate pieces
some that want to fly, some that want to be lost,
some that want to get lost together
when the sunshine floods in
when another autumn day
slips in and slips out

i was a child without it
but that man who played the fiddle
lived and died without ever once possessing it
freedom

i want to follow you to those shores
when the moon is there
when it’s my choice
to tell you the truth
and hear only those pieces which you say
whether in the highest or lowest extreme
and pick between the prison and the rose
and allude to everything
that has ever brought a tear
i just need it all
when we’ve all been too lucky for too long
and i love it too much

he won’t ever forget you
if he knows for certain and forever
that you don’t want him to
and you keep the old slang
and let the blood come from your heart
if the burning keeps you warm
even if it’s not as good as something
because it’s better than nothing

don't be a runaway

for all of you
when everything dusty
inside threatens to blow two thousand
miles away
before you see it go and
settle into the sea

don’t be

don’t be a stranger
when you check the box
that says,
“remember me,”
and breathe a full pause in
and out

and doubt

: don’t

and when you
are jazzy and blue
and i am blushingly
secretly red,
know that i don’t
disbelieve
anything you've ever said

i just don’t think you can finish
so soon

so don’t
because you,
you,
and i
none of us would ever
really lie

my name is spencer too

i will not write
an opus
as you say

on staying unbiased
dry capsizing
or slant rhyming

nor on flashy socks
or electric storm shocks
or climbing rocks

i will also not write an opus on
dry lips
and your fingertips
and tar pitch
and never finding the itch

i will never write
an opus on the fate of the prodigal
yellow plate,
nor on lindsay’s yellow eyes,
nor on
morons

but i am also spencer
even if you are just
a little bit more clever

lucky thirteen

tell me why her pulse changed if
she doesn’t recognize the sideways faces
if even eyelashes don’t tickle
and words will never line up side by side

tell me when the calm before the storm begins
if she will only follow whims
and if little words don’t whisper
that’s when i’ll really miss her

riotous riley

indigo
smeared between the palms
of gentle bones
and ink-black butterfly wings
between waves
and red boats
and every other thing that floats

indigo
smearing the snow
where they found yeti
in tibet
and they’re not free
yet

it takes skill to see
just one drop in the changelessly
changeable sea

and murder mercifully

and smile at me

swing voting with noah and annie

skill falls in balance,
glass falls in panes,
teeth fall not far,
and i’ll fall for this

inclination is king
but we have no ruler
and they erased the chalk for us,
so i wouldn’t sneeze,
so you could cure any disease

and i
could never prove anything wrong about you
so you’re alright
tonight and any other night

because in the land of life philosophies,
we are the purple states
the only ones who need to listen to the debates
while up and down
prove their height
and depth to us
and yesterday i learned to listen
and not to listen

because we’re used to playing with
the bright planets
and we’d never be satisfied otherwise

it’s not a mask
i’ll have faith in anything you ask

christmas

blinding little eyes in the sun
i'll come

now there's a window on the wall
little lights
from the white
unmorbid stones
and the rings of trees
and motionless bees

who sting for rent
and consent

and sparkles fall from
all the way up
to right down here
on a midnight
clear

i'll give you proof
of bells ringing
dry leaves clinging
to the roof

i like knowing it's the truth

what the hell

it makes no sense not to smile
for all of you
so i do, meaning
it mostly
and gifting myself with the power of
captivating myself
to have something to rely on.
i crowned myself with the right
to feel what i want
so i don’t feel this.
ice melts but
december is soon
and i won’t because
if i did i would want
to dive 30,000 feet into the past
drag the opportunity back by force
explain to myself what i would learn “in due course”
pull you towards me by the hair
and forget all about “fair’s fair”
i admit it
i want to never have lost it

hallows or horcruxes?

i caught the spoon, anyway

did you just crack? i felt it
up here in nutso-land where i’ve
decided to permanently reside
balancing on a soup-can until
ten is less than ten

i know what he picked but it’s
hard to choose to crush instead of create
a monster that might just kill you

my feet are cold and indecision
gets old

allison cameron

awkward girl,
i kind of love you.

in the clean lobby you pause at
his eyes,
and i want to be the scarf.

you smile everywhere
like claudius,
but no lies,
and you are nearly
always wrong.

curls and
waves on the sand,
and a wave of the hand,
and another try,
bleeding it but
why?

it changes
everything.

and i love

your shiny hair…