two gift registries

we would love

a giant sleeping bag

nice + fun + useful kitchen things

family peace

grand piano

raspberries

climbing gear

Mom's copy of Fablehaven

paid rent

plane tickets to anywhere in Africa

stepmom's health while she has twins

a massage gun

tan minus the tan lines

time for carving hymnbooks

wild delphiniums and stargazer lilies

a trip to lagoon

more time to relax

insta-heal for my foot

open temples

Sister to feel really really loved

dark chocolate + fruit

happier, forgiving moms

more optimism

...

we already have

really nice hands

foam roller + massage equipment

siblings

good books

family with pianos

lotsa books

lotsa laughter

several guitars

smile wrinkles around eyes + mouth

fuzzy socks

crutches

chewed nails

the prettiest mountains

blossoms

a trip to California

crazy hair

troll feet

wise relatives

raspberries

... 

...

 ...

I collect hands

Rock Canyon + Hebrew

climbing somewhere

the Pacific

Autriche

sweet potato carving

my desk

cathedral of the madeline

christmas eve

gospel study

Mary and Baby Jesus

Lists cont.

a weather forecast:

corona virus and true love. 

Kid with smile wrinkles:

a basic need but not at all basic

your laugh is the warmest thing I can think of right now 

I don't know much about love but I know it has something to do with you

what I need for quarantine:

food  

toilet paper & 

you

e.m.

learning

i had a question

raised my hand empty but grasping 

For an answer that went over my head.

Two by two they came and went with Noah

Neither the man without the woman nor the woman without the man

It is not good for man to be alone

I always felt

That I was 

Happy where I was.

But now feels different.

I felt happy.

Now I know 

I am more. 

Answers were in the soil

Knelt to the earth

Knuckles brown, fingerprints covered, 

Waited and I

Am a different person 

fingerprints covered by yours. 

how it feels to be 22 in an airplane

the Menu:
a small can of orange juice,
pretzels.
chocolate samples please.

All my life I've written about being INCOMPLETE
getting lost in thought wondering about your eye color (they were going to be blue)
fishing
for premature feelings and words that don't exist yet
because no other catch would fill those holes.

Incompleteness tickles. Its a funny state of being and it grows on you like
a fungus,
its victims live in 2+ places at once and
it's
a thief that way, cutting people in half
I've always been cut in half

but there's so much to write about

when it feels like I've always been sitting in a laundromat waiting for you.
the bells will ring as you open the door and your shoes will trace my footprints over the unswept floor and they'll walk to me and you'll sit down and
those holes holding my better half back will
fill up
with
your
smile

Incompleteness won't let me see your face.

Instead this window becomes thousands of trees
we are landing a plane in front of them
they choose to look at us
us
in our laundromat
us
in this landing plane,
on another flight
us
as my feet
us
as my thoughts
are magnetized to the ground.

i am looking

close your eyes.
when you open them, look left,
out the window:

someone has spilled poinsettia leaves and pumpkin peels across the horizon.
I'm sitting next to you, keeping the colors from slipping through my hands

colors tasting of Bahamian sunburned lips and, faintly,
of cranberry juice.

we watch
amazed
as unseen hands pour carrot soup over the horizon
and dunk the world beneath poinsettia skies.

i am looking at air dyed red and orange and coral
i am looking from flight DL1928 to Atlanta
i am looking to be taught why sunsets matter when hearts break and flesh bleeds.

Blood, from a lamb.
spread across
a horizon like it was spread across
door posts in Israel like it flowed
on a roman cross and there shall be no more.

no more blood no more pain no more death

i am looking at a sun as it slips off the edge of the world,
feeling peace, and it fills up my heart
and overflows into the ocean below.

focus

sometimes I still fall back in love with you 

on Thursday, during class

and I wonder about your voice & 

your laugh and I click my pen 

and take notes between thoughts.