We are insubstantiallike the legs of waterbirdsholding the weight of our own hollow bonesand micro-plastic blood. on the edge of flight on the edge of extinction Believing in our solidity,existing as a reflectionin a ripple of cold water. April 5,…
The dreams began with the old womantucked in her cryo-chamber,a botanist from another time altogether. Dreams of young green tendrils wrappingaround her chilled wrists and ankles whileshe slept the iridescent sleep of the edge of galaxies. The dreams spread to…
it’s just a flit flutter flirt wings beatingin a chestit’s just a sip of a nectar floral center yellow pink purple red color explosions behind eyelids swerve dip whisper feather soft touchit’s just a flit flutter flirtof a hummingbird heartApril…
You don’t rememberwhat green means,fresh and burstingfrom snow fed mud.What first bladescan teach youafter many monthsof monochrome grey. You have become unyieldinglike the dry husksof milkweed, sheddingsilver strands of fallwhile you lie dormantdreaming of monarchs. For you I will paintnothing…
Did raindrops land like heartbeatswhen they ran for the fields,when night came for them?Did raindrops land like scarson the arms of refugees? They didn’t know that orangecould be a sky or a fruitor an escape from the windin her hair…
Should we starteach day with poetry?With words scoopedinto mouths,tumbled smooth,held on tongueslike lemon drops? Sweet, sour,hard, and sharpas broken glass? Swallowed as tiny cuts,each word absorbedinto every cell.Reborn as another poemon another broken morning. January 1, 2023
Let’s go backto the partwhere you thoughtI was beautiful. 1/12/17 My mind can’tthink in poetrywhen the pocketsof silence are shallow. 2/16/17 Pixels I am again enticedto put pen to paper,to transform paper to pixels,to choose pixels to share. To share…
Write about the cicadas. Write about how the sunlighting the top of a morning cloudmakes you almost believe in heaven. Write about how the soundof the wind in the leavesmakes you want to weep. Write about hunger.Write about discontent.Write about…
I like the way themorning air has weightto give substance to the day. I like the way treesdon’t believe in fences. I like the way blackberriesfall and get crushed under foot,staining the sidewalk. And how they just don’t care. I…
Forty-five came in on a sunbeamand a summer breeze,seeping in like the heat of theninety degree day.I awoke to see it standing there,watching me sleep.I had been expecting it, but Iwas still surprisedby its quiet arrival. Startledto see it had…
