Hear

You never croak, but you roar like a frog.
You bark an extended note, though you never howl.

You write her love songs, drunk on ale.
Buzzed on tea, I ink the sound down.

‘S’alright. My pen’s as neutered
as I always said it was.

And my love’s as strong as you strike
those chords

over, and over, and over again. Sway side to side.

I see the curves that your hips don’t make, Man.Read More »

On Being an Ideas Person

After a month of nearly falling off the bottom of the earth,
Ma placed me in my bed, where I woke imagining
feeling wide-eyed, refreshed, wondrous of where I was-
jumping off the bed, landing in flexible splat as impossible
as the dogs I used to try to draw were ugly.

I didn’t really know how dogs’ heads or human bodies worked,
but I wanted a Lisa Frank retriever and my butt to be in the air,Read More »

Suicidal Rain

Drops fall in unison,
roaring on the roof like
a giant’s fan sent to cool the homestead off.

Meanwhile, the beads that fell first
splash into puddles and pots,
filling rows up when all they did was fall down.

The grey has never brightened your mood,
but I guzzle water.
You don’t see its point; You want
the sun to match the marigolds,Read More »