p o e t r y

  • legacy

    Is greatness carved from the desire for greatness? Contained within some weighty block, neither eager nor patient, obstinately set. Is it cobbled and collaged, years of sediment mounting and pressingslowly amassing to some requisite threshold Is it birthed as if from nothing,emerging in an ostentatious flare,the product of greater forces, shifting What I’m really asking […]

  • dissociation

    Consciousness peeling away from my body like sunburned skin;Like dried glue and fidgety fingers, nervous from thoughts of what is to comeThe crash of glasses and you,Dinner simmering with a cloud of steam fogging the glass – an eyelid closing.The walls that once felt drafty, now impenetrable. There’s no use knocking now. (09.12.22) . . […]

  • surface // the fiction of my flesh

    You’re reading my body The stories of my scars and the writing of my wrinkles But what does my skin say of the longing in my soul and the aching of my heart If the tears carved canyons in my cheeks, how deep would they be? Would you climb them? If the darkened cavern of […]

  • reminders

    sidewalk chalk, smudgeda van like hisThe trees with severed limbs still sending sapto parts no longer there.The sweetness clumps at the edges,it can’t turn back. The leaves fall like rain —the sound of forgetting, drowned by the hum of cicadas. The scent of summer lingers, I plug my nose and return home. (09.05.22)

  • an unplanned saturday

    Today contains a yearning and no balm to soothe it The harsh light on this walk makes me feel lumpy;the twice-stubbed toe, fumbling. A tree covered with leaves like fans, the intricacy of the patterns of the bark, and the gentle breezealmost overtook the moist oppressive heatand the tree swing locked behind the fence with […]

  • To Wander

    To write straightforwardly,comprehensibly,is to know what it is you want to sayand that you want to say it. We walk the circuitous path when we don’t know where we are going,how to get there,or if we are ready ready to finish our walk go inside and say those things we’ve been dreading. (09.03.22)

  • A Song

    That song you said you hatedI’m listening to it on repeat. When you told me your opinion I stayedwhat I thought to be suspiciouslysilent If you hate something I love I fearedmaybe we’re not as compatible as I thought Though what’s a song, really,compared to the rest. Just poetic sound wrapped in emotion mined from […]

  • A Knock

    Last night I was home, alone,And there was a knocking at the door. I went to open it But no, I was mistaken, it was only my heart. Later, I was sitting with a cup of tea,And there was again a pounding in my chest (I went to open it) But no, I was mistaken, […]

  • reflection // dual dupability

    It’s fascinating to watch someone lie to themselvesand, by extension, to you. You want to be mad To shake them, to wake themTo hold a mirror and say“See. Here.” But Alice is not an English teacher or a psychologist. To her, her dreams are just dreams. So even if she does climb through the looking […]

  • on a train

    I feel trapped and surrounded yet disconnected and aimless. Like I’m on a railroad going nowhere, alone in a train car full of people. Backpacks packed with stuff that I can’t access or use. People I know but not people I can talk to. The view outside is a blur but somehow it’s also blurry […]

  • I am not eating my feelings

    I am not eating my feelings My feelings taste like salty ocean water in my lungs like pine sol like biting full force and without warning into that terrible chewy bit in a chicken sandwich like mediocre overpriced food from an otherwise beautiful memory filled with people I’m supposed to be trying to forget like […]

  • A Day In June

    The sunshine is a bully You’re wasting your life, it whispers, draped over my windowsill. The anxiety that has settled, resting in a puddle below my belly button, swirls up like the oat milk in my morning coffee pale as my legs, resting here inside. I’m tired, I whisper in response because I am. I […]

  • flowers & fuel

    “I live when I’m happy and I write when I’m not.” I don’t know how to write about happy things, fun things, soft things.I’ve never been one to compare the flutter of her lashes to those of a butterfly on a warm summer day dancing among the blossomsor remark on how staring into his eyes […]

  • Notes On Wanting

    1 I had wanted it to be you, you know.But of course, you probably don’t know. can’t know. and if you do know,Pretend you don’t.Because that is a dopamine trail long since dissipated amongst the cloudsScattered across the prairies, forests, mountains, riversAll that is left is some confusing intermingled web tainted by anxiety/attraction/performance/emotions/Probably just chemicals […]

  • sand

    four minutes have passed by numbly staring at the bathroom ceiling the water of the tub lukewarm four months have passed by blindly eyes fixed on screens and pages the place I live unchanging but for the fluctuating piles of cups and clothes four years have passed me by quietly there should have been moremore […]

  • Internet Famous

    If I make some silly rhymes If I post at different times If I add a trending tag Will I have it in the bag? Will I make it to the top If my tweeting doesn’t stop? Will I finally get success? Will I stop at nothing less? Will that fill this empty void? Will […]

  • visceral

    years ago a Stranger dug a pit in the soft earth of my mind and it was in that excavation where the branches of events were thrown and burned charring the pit beyond recognition or repair and now when I return to that site everything returns the anger the hope the hate the embarrassment the […]

  • Had Enough?

    What’s one more poem one more pot One more I with one more dot One more drawing one more book One more thing at which to look One more scarf or one more cake One more picture of a lake One more house, one more show One more online store to go One more place […]

  • . . . t i m e . . .

    Time is minutes, seconds, hours, days. Time is duration. Time is movement, time is change. Time is the beating of my heart, the pulsing of blood through my veins. Time is scars, wounds, scabs. Time is mechanical, time is fluid. Time is bodily. Time is a subjective experience.  Time is an objective reality. Time is […]

  • It was just an adjective.

    Simple sounds muffled amongst the layers of meaning that wrap overlap and veil Meant to convey they confuse refusing to be as simple as they seem Because we’ve imbued them all Convoluted them all And if they’re not in a dictionary yet, just you wait And the words on the screen broken down are just […]

  • the damage of one dandelion

    He was everything that has roots in the cracks of my skin that are sidewalk scars – the bleeding wrinkles of time in my soul that had scabbed over but ripped open anew – and I hate him for it. He was the middle school girl in science  class Too high in the social strata […]

  • Below the Line

    There’s a sickness in my soul It’s filled with self-creating holes The blood both paint and soap washing painting losing hope Entropic forces rip apart Tear the wholeness of the heart Ceaseless void and darkened eye Deep and never-ending sigh (abstractrelationsvi)

  • Referential Existence

    Words are so remarkably frustrating. They never fully encapsulate what I am trying to convey… the swirl of thoughts and logical strands, the elegant images and buzz of emotions tingling in my veins… they never flow out of my mouth, instead they tumble and crash like the waves on a beach trying to reach the […]

  • He said; He said.

    The water of brain in the pool of her skull and the endless reverberations of ripples Ad infinitum Of a voice she never actually heard And ever since she put pills as plugs in the drains of her eyes There’s still two ways in and one way out But trapped by the tongue So no […]

  • Side Effects

    The Cure for Curiosity of the whys of the world is the disease of distraction bound by the blindfold of busyness; and The Cure for Curiosity of the whys of the world is healed by a hope in holiness, the affliction of arrogance, bound by the books of beliefs, and crippled by caring; and The […]

  • Inescapable

    Stop. Please stop. Their gunshots like the drops on her forehead, Cold and penetrating. She shut her eyes and her mind between each: bracing herself for the next, steeling herself. She had, for a long time, liked to think that her mind was indestructible But slowly, slowly she was learning otherwise She turned the knob, […]

  • Beneath the Insomnia

    She paints the same canvasAgain and AgainIn her dreamswhile they sleepand it sleeps.Because otherwisethey never stay stilllong enoughto dryHer teardrops of paintThat leave trailsof subtle colorbehind themAnd behind themprevious paintingsalso made without brushesThat always end uppainted overthe next morningto hide the evidence And the canvas of it allIs her faceand her fearsFor at the core […]

  • [((shellter))]

    The small finger traces the maze of mortar, sliding through streets that run between buildings of brick in a vertical cityand that finger doesn’t know that a standard mortar joint is assumed to be 3/8″And that brick sizes are determined based on that assumptionAnd that Frank Lloyd Wright spec’d colored mortar to accentuate horizontalityAnd that […]

  • Unfinished

    Her signature unknowingly picked up the gauntlet that he unknowingly dropped. And this unknown challenge was both imaginary and impossible: there were no rules and all the rules, nothing was defined and everything was. With no weapons and all the weapons, it was all and nothing Like the space between walls that we call rooms […]

  • The Accident

    A white car in fog heading towards her driving home his points and ideas with no lights on so nobody sees him coming. But they break down – The metaphors that is He should have called it a mini van His ghost child trailing behind him. But it’s a fog eat fog world in here […]

  • damn dandelions

    lessons in a languageI never learned.must have missed that daywhen they taughtthe tongue of temporality. now, nature noticesmy deficiency.damn dandelionstaunting,flaunting their inabilityto hold onyet somehow stillrooted, remembered, resilient. it’s just a seasonthe new buds whisper,hold looselyas they flutter in the breezethis too shall passfalling, falling if onlyI (the roots, the rock) replyenvious of their freedomto […]

  • ……………………..

    the sound of spitting camels at my back … I start to walk (to trudge, to clamber) … sinking with each step; … it is not simply my feet … searching for substance, … but as my toes are sifting sand … all I find is shifting land … Bottomless … this sandbox was poured […]

  • processing (part 2)

    I’ve got to steady myself The ground had begun to fall away like those video games I used to play where the earth would just descend to blackness and I had to run, jump, run to get away. get to safety. I’m slipping I feel it like a wave rushing over me, filling in the […]

  • processing (part 1)

    I knew I was injured, but I thought the bleeding was under control. I thought it was a surface wound – situational, temporary. But as the numbness subsides and feeling returns I am getting the impression that I was quite wrong; the cut that I thought was surface deep was actually much deeper into myself […]

  • in slowness

    In slowness I hear the irritable tapping of my mother’s foot as we sit in a restaurant booth waiting for our delayed dinner. I hear the frustrated sighs of my friends when the internet lags.  I feel the clenching of my jaw and annoyance expanding in my chest as someone wastes my time repeating information […]

  • plastic

    The crumbling grave markers poke their mossy stone heads above the dirt, their faces showing their age like my grandfather’s own weathered face. Those hands that toiled in the dirt, held chipmunks, birthed calves, slaughtered dinner – they touched life and they touched death. They knew the balance at the heart of continuity. Each inhale […]

  • the photographer

    once, a long time ago, there was an artist. (call him singularity, call him paradise) after the completion of his most recent, and some would say most famous, piece of art (a self-portrait) he photographed it and made this photograph into a puzzle. the photographer now sits at a table sorting through the box of […]

  • i am

    (unfiltered, unedited) i am decay i am thoughts, fleeting and dreams evaporating i am mist, fog i am divide between attraction i am battered memory, dispersing cloud i am ungluing of collage, scattering in breeze i am glass, reflection in a puddle i am streak from tear on cheek i am ache colliding with burning […]

  • balance

    a void carved into the sphere ceaselessly spinning the green exterior (green and brown and pavement) is red within. she bleeds when the void is carved, when the vein is punctured. her blood is needed somewhere else— needed or wanted a fine line— but moved regardless (not destroyed, no matter how forceful, for she can […]

  • 0bl1v10n

    the silhouettes of warm bodies in the lights flashing, jumping blue and green, add purple. subtract green. red. bright white. blinding. the bass throbs in my chest beating, beating my heart overthrown (had it really beat before this moment? I cannot recall…) black balcony above black railings, encircling shadows hang beneath in fact, the room […]