Sometimes life has those moments.
They’re the moments where you’re happy,
peaceful, joyful, free. And you’re not
alone. They’re the moments when you don’t even want
to jump out your window and run away
or make a cup of tea to cling to,
as though drinking it might keep you alive or sane.Read More »
I grab my corpse by her hair and yank
her onto her feet, slam her into a tree,
‘til the bark cuts her back so she’s hanging thereRead More »
I know about happiness; We’ve met.
We just don’t get alone time-
Anxiety’s name is “, but”. I don’t do simple sentences.
I know Anxiety so well that I don’t have to see its face-
No matter how fast I spin, it’s always a hair’s breadth from my sight.
But I know it’s there. It breathes down the right side of my neck.
It’s got a chokehold. And trust me- When you’re that intimate with somebody else,Read More »
We all stand
on the same polka dotted mat.
You stomp the colored spots
like they’re disco-balls. You’re effortless,
the game’s commands flowing through
your veins. Your instinct: Graceful dance.
I start
with the center,
but one spot cannot hold two limbs!
So all that comes next
is a jumble-Read More »
If the sky is navy and the sun gives off
a lingering bumblebee glow,
when the snow dares to fall but is too shy to stay,
and you start to sense that you’re alone,
with the village distant and you in the desert-
I see how you feel in my soul.
But what do you hear? And what do you cry?
What secrets do you know?
When my black butterflies come
with their razor wings that make me bleed,
and they darken the horizon as far as eye can see,
(And the black butterflies come,
with their razor wings that scratch and screech
on the chalkboard of my heart, to start to suck the nectar out…)Read More »
I am in love enough with details
to be OCD, a poet, self-aware, far too engaged all the time
with every milliquiver of my fibers,
and I think I’m understood,
that my intentionality is seen,
that my terms and movements are known as technical.
But I’ve taught no soul my tongue;
if I do go noticed, I go labeled as odd,
and honestly, nobody cares! They are not in love with me.Read More »
This is the point of the yellow-green crayon-
the grass of this light, not too bright clearing,
the trees circled ‘round like an audience
or perfect fence, this somehow bigger than recalled
but still small enough to cradle us,
place of our memories.
Still, with the hunch in my shoulders I sense
a peripheral silence. Sure enough,Read More »
Innocent,
adorable,
exactly like a lie,Read More »
On rare occasion,
I wave tasty topic
after tasty topic Read More »
Alphabet Ravine 