Soft, fresh, padded arms,
never tanned, never starved,
freshly powdered, swung their way
to Grandma’s House.
I knew I visited the coolest grandmother
when my tear-free washed, towel-dried arms
pressed out against cool linoleum,Read More »
Kyrie
Is this what you expected?
Probably.
If childhood is war, what is life past the cusp of innocence?Read More »
the thumping
pound
on
the pavement
poundRead More »
On the Death of Pop Pop
Do you imagine God used his thumbs
when he formed Adam from the dust?Read More »
Child Of Sand
Lurching waves launch up to reach
the power across jagged edges shot,
ricocheting down to kiss,
to ultimately betray.Read More »
Storms (See attached document)
in the grey
in the grey, in the rain, in the
pockets where I shove my hands,
nothing is left but a nickel and one more chanceRead More »
countertop conversations
kissing me
cold
selfishly,
intoxicating liar
the bottle is my
unfaithful partner
and I am her
abuser
Berez
By six years of age,
one ought to know some basic lessons,
like, “Not a peep ‘til the teacher calls
on your raised hand.”
I knew this lesson.
Berez did not.Read More »
S.S. Sinking (Utilizing Lady Gaga’s “Paparazzi”)
Is music sex?
And is sex love?
See, I am charged; I am impassioned.
I’ve an energy, this channel.
Still, I have an age to me
you may not live to know-
I may be set ablaze, but I’m old,
at least inside my soul.
I’ve a sadness,
an emptiness,
but it isn’t that my eyes are vacant.
No, emptiness isn’t a hole; it’s a mass.
It has heaviness, and it has weight;
It has substance.
And fingernails!
It clings to the walls of my heart, just like staplesRead More »
Alphabet Ravine 