Meditation is mellifluous
melody ignoring the choo-
choo train inside my head,
but I have been growing
better, forth in time.
There are meadows
I will never enter – renter
of everything. Nothing I meet
in this life I keep. Honest. Lover
bearing forever strands
of hair? God, infinity is
so infinite when glimpsed.
Such the rose moon
grows on this
specific sky.
(originally published in Count Seeds With Me, Spring 2022)
boat with a big air ice tower
ice tower
universal wakeboard
boats
boat tower
universal wakeboard tower
wakeboard towers for sale
wake tower
ice boat air tower
boat wakeboard tower
boat towers for sale
for sail boats air
cheap wakeboard tower
folding wakeboard tower
tower collapsible
collapsible wakeboard
universal collapsible
folding wakeboard air
boat towers
tower boat
drown tower
for sale tower
boat big ice boat
boat wakeboat
sail cheap
for sale
(originally published in eGoPHobia, Fall 2019)
I need this walk through the suburbs
summer heat has me a certain way
lovers have me a certain way
I need to clear my head with the zen
of weedwackers droning, an SUV’s blur and
whoosh, lawnmowers torturing the grass–
white noise, white birds, white hybrids.
walked with white sneakers in the mud
last night drunk in the rain through an alley
(originally published in RASPUTIN, Winter 2020)
In my living-in-my-car days I wandered the country wild
and thought often of my mom, slipping anew on the verge
in waking nightmares: silhouette with angled knife at
my car window. Never peace, even in sleep, though I
was lucky, had a roof, silver shining. A Ford Fiesta
occupied. I’ve had a house broken into but I wasn’t there
so it never felt like it actually happened, and the thief
took nothing I could remember missing except the mirage
of having control. But living in my car I knew separation
only by windows, fragile and claustrophobic. I slept in the
backseat and thought that would give me an extra second, if
needed. Sleeping in Walmart parking lots I hoped to be
able to see my mother again and I lied on the phone,
verbally lowering crime rates for cities I slept in.
(originally published in Ghost City Review, Spring 2020)
maybe it
was the last good year
of living
the shadows
over the world
half-draped
smoke
in our hearts
not yet noxious in
the air then we knew
a future
was alive
but isn’t it always
the last love the only
one still possible
(originally published in former People, Winter 2020)
Thlok when drunk.
Thlok for deer.
Thlok for you to fail.
Thlok when you can’t thlok.
Thlok chips on the poker table.
Thlok your name being called.
Thlok falls down.
Thlok shut up.
Thlok talk about their children.
Thlok hard work.
Thlok jolt a finger.
Thlok beer poured into a glass.
Thlok guitar pedal.
Thlok your partner.
Thlok caw.
Thlok you have no interest in.
Thlok two packs a day.
Thlok typing with mitts.
Thlok silent manner.
Thlok urinate.
Thlok wind machine.
Thlok monster.
Thlok opinion without listening.
Thlok fast asleep.
Thlok two big sticks.
Thlok fish swims away.
Thlok across the street.
Thlok thawing snow in spring.
Thlok thoughts during sex.
Thlok man mansplaining thlok.
(originally published in The Disappointed Housewife, Summer 2021)
My lungs have drowned in fluid–
I can’t stop coughing. Who am I
to survive in all this death
and pollution? Land-dweller, ill-
fitted? The sea regurgitates
its dead– whales on white sand
shores, fish entwined in kelp.
The old organisms– from where
we began– return to land,
beg us to let them walk.
(originally published in Freshwater Review, Spring 2020)
been having issues with teeth
and insurance these past few weeks
waiting to get my mouth examined
for sharp pain at its core
and today I found a decent dentist
who accepts my bad insurance
and after the assistant’s questions
after the x-ray the dentist
lowers my chair
for a closer look when fire
men tell us to evacuate
due to a gas leak
and now I’m with the dentist
and his staff in the parking lot
poison in the air
talking Cleveland sports
and root canals
but the building never
catches fire
that doesn’t mean strangers
didn’t rush to the scene
(originally published in Edison Literary Review, Spring 2020)
I play too much
in this ruin. Wing-
dings over profits,
always, despite ancient
language bleating over
the human market.
For what it is worth,
self-worth is not defined
by worth. The milk
is not transferable
to white. When
projecting nonsense,
be sure to include
my name in the credits.
(originally published in Eunoia Review, Fall 2021)
I wanted to be a wayward lasso,
to toss and be tossed.
Racetrack for the rainy season.
Horsetail-whipped.
Grieve not the slobbering mouth
of distance. I wanted a different
chance. Someone else,
or no one– there, entwined,
I’m sorry. You said there
was a way to make long
distance work and I was
no one in return but another.
Already, then, I was
galloping to the dark place
of convincing the pavement’s
otherwise steadiness. Did not
wish an earthquake to settle
my legs with falling,
so eager was I
to forget the other path.
(originally published in The Wax Paper, Spring 2020)