wind like a taiko
along the crown of palm
I shiver with the window
(originally published in Vine Leaves Literary Journal, Issue #14)
wind like a taiko
along the crown of palm
I shiver with the window
(originally published in Vine Leaves Literary Journal, Issue #14)
On bridges I wait for the crash;
below, for the crumble.
With slick-ice roads in the
dead of winter
by the open canal,
in my mind I watch my car slide
off the road, into water.
Inconsequential
even if I knew how to swim.
She taught me– or tried to, at least.
She told me to find
my “inner mermaid”–
like a man.
And to fill my lungs like balloons
with meaningless, throwaway air–
which I did, to a fault.
(originally published in The Literary Commune – Issue #4, April 2015)
the not-even-mine salt-and-pepper pup
domesticates me
the longer i hang
the more chameleon my intentions
the smell of sweat from rain-pawed feet
i wave yesterday’s socks
like american flags
i say, speak english –
even though i do not understand
(originally published in White Stag – Volume II, Issue I)