Poems from our advertisements. You can find these poems and more in our upcoming book: Transpoetation: Poems to Move You, available wherever fake books are sold. Updated monthly.

I haven’t touched you,
for 47 days.

I’m really leaving NYC.
Behind my mask, 
and my laughter,
and the fog in my glasses,
I can’t tell if I’m crying.
I can’t tell if I’m crying. 

58 holes in 16 walls.
That’s all that’s left
after 4 years 
of shelves and pictures 
and a piece of garbage I thought was pretty.

What makes it home? 
is it a pink bandanna hung on the wall
or a photo stuck to the fridge, from the time we camped?
Is it the number of times we’ve laughed?
or cried?
or sat in silence?
a smell?
or a lack of one?
that the bodega has the right kind of coconut water?
An easy walk to the bathroom in the pitch black?
or the 999th stubbed toe in broad daylight?

Cat under the couch
The movers are hard at work
Everything changes

She took me into her home and let me sleep on her sofa,
because my new landlord forgot to
Give me the keys,
and now it’s Saturday,
Day of Rest,
but not for me.
Oh Thank God, she has enough eggs,
and I think I’ll make us hashbrowns,
and we can eat like everything is fine.

Some Kondo for your condo;
Does this bring you joy?
Who cares, you own real estate.

4 tabs
a little tape
Let me hold you

This rock
is from that Friday 
when you walked home with me after school,
it fit so perfectly in my hand,
now in the box, 
packed away,
until the next time 
it finds me

Our whole life
spread across 31 and a half boxes
into the back of a truck
half full
We threw away my couch
We’ll sit on the floor
and eat pizza
and talk about how perfect
everything is going to be

Boxes everywhere, oh no!
The movers are here!
But where have the boxes gone?
Oh here they are, inside of my new home
That was sudden