you say go
to the lake I can’t
articulate
connection (the multitudes
slathered in fog lotion)
I have
believed in you
all our distant
foolishness outside this realm
of such irrelevant people
(originally published in Modern Literature, Spring 2020)
You said you’d be here hours ago,
weeks ago, months ago– last year,
we were late to the Crew game
then screamed nonsense to the crowd.
And then you told me you’d be back
and I waited, tethered to pole, while
the game ended and you were nowhere.
The bottles of mixed vodka we hid inside
the base of a lamppost was, miraculously,
still there at the end. But I changed
cities then came back to the light
shattered in the breath of a rubber band
slung outward toward infinity, the dash
of time not slowing any past collisions.
(originally published in G*Mob, Spring 2022)
A thousand nights on the patio wine-
drunk only desire of the moon
between us. Jack’s barking was the
beating drum that kept us up all
night, and we’d just turn speakers
up to drown our axis in music.
I said I never want to be away
from you – you responded
aspens, cherry blossoms
near the end of March.
(originally published in Home Planet News Online, Fall 2020)
beer pong in daylight the yelling
sun chastises our weekday conundrum
of pennies thick-rolled in bank
accounts worth splashed gravel
I lose more than nostalgic games
and afternoons used to be the goal
was get plastered now there are
lingering lips on plastic cups
that need the wastebin
no one wants to clean up
(originally published in Hamline Lit Link, Spring 2020)
beer pong is concentric
angles & behind-the-back
a miracle of physics
not that I understand
the finer maths of sport
I held an endless reservoir
of alcohol schoolnights turned
blue-lipped and blurred
pages flipped to I-don’t-know-
how-I-got-here one time
awakening on a bed of roses
at the belly of Constitution Hall
staring to the vacant moon
soaked in sticky juice a book
with its pages torn out
“A God You Believed In” is now available for purchase at the Pinhole Poetry shop! It is a collection of poems inspired by my time working in the film industry in Los Angeles and Pittsburgh.
Here is the link: https://pinholepoetry.ca/shop/
It’s daunting, the path
leading out
to the world.
My car’s been
out of use
for weeks
and rusts
on the street.
I’d prefer simpler
times:
chalk ghosts
on concrete–
now, don’t
come so close.
(originally published in Pendemic, Spring 2020)
we live the same lives
one limestone the other
the mountain gray clocks
hold hands in concentric
routines using boxcutters
to slash tape off freights
of textbooks the insular
world blurs platitudes
won’t make the day run
faster as the forklift as
convertible into stacks
of cardboard papercuts
eats away at my flesh
you lend me an apple
in leather gloves lunch
for the weary cores of
a warehouse we drive
away to separate lives
(originally published in Otoliths, Spring 2020)
my consciousness abandoned you hours earlier.
and when your alarm chimed in the early morning,
you said I hate being up, and there was an ant searching
along the spine of your novel. we watched, for a moment,
before you crushed it with your thumb. crawling up the bedpost
was another. I should have told you, you said. I should have told you.
(originally published in The Broadkill Review, Summer 2021)
about at least the weather
the summer mosquitos
won’t stop eating me red
bumps along ridges
of skin dinner and sweat
from walking humid heart-
shaped streets I’m out
of shape burned steps
every dollar I waste’s
not spent on me but
oh how I’m saturated
(originally published in Agony Opera, Summer 2021)