The first time I screamed,
Read More »
I stopped when I felt guilty.
The sixteenth time, I stopped
when I felt like I’d gone mad.
The hundredth time, I screamed ’til I felt
I’d shown myself to be too insane to come back from it-
I’m suddenly disturbed by the awareness that
I’m suddenly feeling unsettled aboutRead More »
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
over, and over, and over again. Sway side to side.
I see the curves that your hips don’t make, Man.Read More »
I’ve the story memorized.
I could write a whole book, film a movie.
I can quote our every line.
Why’s it matter so much,
why’s it grip me?
There was waiting, anticipating.
We were rooting for oh, so long.
Then the ending, sudden grating-Read More »
Scrapes and scuttles above my bed
but beneath the record player crooning
carols for the sliders and shufflers
to grate and whoosh to-
Do tree and garland rise in the upstairs room?
Or does the furniture scoot to perfect
And that, for feet to twirl and sway-
for the first or hundredth time?
With arms open as wide as the heartsRead More »
It is with urgency that the crickets chirp in each other’s gaps.
The wind rushes through the reeds on repeat,
as a lapping wave. And the owls insist
on crying out their rhetoric. Would that I had doneRead More »
My feelings towards you confuse me,
or at least they would
if I ever bothered to think about them.
I don’t.Read More »
I tried to wine, dine, and dance
after holding your rough hands,
closing my eyes,
Illusions of my upper crustRead More »
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 »
The sliding glass doors reflect the light
‘til the room
is a doubly aglow,
and I can see you as well
as the squirrels heard hunting for morsels
on our balcony see us.
You sit close enough for me
to smell your butterscotch skin,
but your words are music to my ears-
not pleasant, but foreign.Read More »