The Postcard Poems: Otoko

so great
the will of man
erodes
in the face
of this adversity
that is isolation
give me what i crave
arise

The Postcard Poems: Do we need?

Do we need music
for this thing called dancing?
Do we need sound
to lead us across the floor?
Do we need drums and synths and guitar
to give us a semblance
of the syncopated rhythm of two beating hearts?
No.
All we need
is the space for two bodies
to coexist for a moment
in contact.

The Postcard Poems: Untitled 7/15/2012

It's 11:25pm and I'm walking across campus.
It's silent out.
I remember that day we watched the sunset,
that day I wanted to cry
because the weight of a temporary goodbye
was crushing me.
Excuse my innocence in the
tired cliche of new love
as I partake in reminiscence
of the day our fingers laced
and it felt like the only thing
I could hold on to.
I look out at the bay now,
the overcast clouds reflecting the stars 
grounded between me and the horizon,
their incandescence doubled 
by the waters below.
Once we watched Astraeus work 
on this, the hill where
I wrapped my arms around you
and kissed you 
to tell you
you make me feel a king of the world.
That day, as now,
I'm filled to overflowing.

The Postcard Poems: Untitled 7/11/2012

I miss
the smell and heat of you next to me
the slight sweetness of Old Spice
as I warm my face against you,
and that spicy and subtle
aroma so
quintessentially Ethan
that I can smell at the back of your neck
when we're spooning
and I squeeze you in close
before we fall asleep
My life is challenged and enriched
for having met you. Thank you.

The Postcard Poems

Postcards should contain poems
because the medium has the message
and the only way to share this
is to hide it in plain sight.
If it slips off the sheet,
addressed and stamped
I mail it anyway,
forgetting for a moment
the eyes that might see
what so publicly I declare.
Postcards should contain poems
because nothing else fits so concisely
on four by three spaces.

The Postcard Poems: Say It

Say It

This one goes out to the lovers and the unrequited.
When did "I love you" become such a hard thing to say?
We used to say it all the time.
I love my mom. I love my dog. I love my brother. I love you.
It was an innocent love,
a free love,
a love unburdened by this fear of an exposed heart.
It was a love that embraced our vulnerability
rather than hide it.
I understand the hesitancy, the risk of devaluation in putting it out there too often,
but how can you place value on something so infinite as love?
I have more love in my heart than I know what to do with.
My love is a gift as free as rain and I offer it to you.
My love is unafraid of politics and society and I offer it to you.
My love is beautiful as darkest nights and brightest days and I offer it to you.
It cannot be silenced.
It cannot remain unspoken.
So this one goes out to the lovers and the unrequited,
I love you.

Funny story about this poem. I wrote it for my boyfriend Ethan on May 18, 2012. I remember the date because I wrote it on a napkin during dinner with my friend Morgan. I wrote it so I could perform it at the VOX Rox Benefit show at the Underground Coffeehouse on campus. I was filled with anxiety because at this point Ethan and I had only been seeing each other about a month and I realized I was falling in love with him and didn't know if I could say it. This poem was my compromise. That night I was drinking with him and some friends in his dorm room and afterward, he said it first: "I love you so much." Serendipitous, no?