Thursday, May 9, 2013


His warmth
is a lit match
grazing close.

I recoil
like the tiny wisps
on the tip of a cotton wick —

afraid to be ignited and

keeling over
from the memory 
of splendor —

trying so hard to fight it.

Wednesday, May 8, 2013


I’m floating on saltwater
my hands the weakest oars
splintered with stinging words
sickened by the steady tumble
light swish and heavy drop
my stomach clenched tight
I look up high but
clouds loom each night
and shroud the North Star.

"Don’t stop now!"
they tell me.
"You've come so far."

Thursday, October 11, 2012


The boughs
of the phylogenetic tree
show clearly
that we’ve evolved away
from our shells
being bound to our spines —
hiding our faces
and tucking in our limbs
won’t save us
from the calamity
that life decides to hurl
in our direction.

I guess that must be why
this feels unnatural.
In the back of my throat
I form words that
pool like mercury:
strong and sterling,
but suddenly disjointed
and toxic
at each hesitation.
They want
(more than anything)
to soar in their elocution
tossing the deadweight
of insecurity
off their backs
as they unfurl
their exuberant wings.

But it’s so hard to fly.
No one can just sprout wings
Even the caterpillar —
a recluse inside its chrysalis —
has to dissolve its own body entirely, —
only barley dodging death —
leaving itself a puddle of potential
before it can rebuild itself from scratch
and flutter off
to the bright blue skies.

Tuesday, August 28, 2012


I am usually
a prim and proper
noun, standing tall
in every sentence –
no tittles or cross strokes
reaching the height of
my definition –
but some days are different:

the paragraphs are tight
they don’t leave room
for any subject
I cite,
not even in the space
of indentations

so I linger
without transition

between margins
and sometimes
I feel

my letters

their eyes
zone out
or maybe
well up with tears

taper even more
becoming invisible

legs and arms start to
leaving blotches of ink
on the text intact

I feel the irrelevance
of me

I definitely feel
the irrelevance
of me


with the contents of a rule book
that I never really understood.

Just expunge me, please.
Paint over me thickly
with the most concealing

Monday, August 27, 2012


I never miss you
because we hold hands
in everseconds -
no ticks
no tocks -
just endless time,

No alarm! Just
the darling we
of you
and me
perpetually) -
as the we
of you
and me
cannot ever be

a memory.

Sunday, August 26, 2012

Painful Recovery

If you love me
stab me

with the truth.

This will hurt less
than bandaging me

with lies

numbing me

and then forcing me
to peel them all off

a day too much later.

Saturday, August 25, 2012

Changing Scenery

I haven’t sat here
since the day you told me
you didn’t feel the same

but something about it
has changed.

The table is still metal black
the seats are still oddly cold
but the sunlight has made it new somehow –
everything is plated in gold.

I would be forced to pass this place before
and get a strange knot in my throat
but right now I’m leaning, scribbling, humming a song
and my smile is staying afloat.

The tree in front of me
is poised just like I am
its leaves are relaxed and ruffling

and the mourning dove is not mourning
the rush of cars isn’t rushing
there isn’t a single cloud overhead
and there are blades of luscious green
between bricks of stony red.

There is a smile in the stiffness
of the kingfisher’s narrow beak
there is cheer in the flutter
of the sparrow’s shower
there is love in the glide
of the starling’s wings
and in my writing hand

there is power.