Watering a Flower


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)

Boats Towers

boat with a big air ice tower
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universal wakeboard
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folding wakeboard tower
tower collapsible
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drown tower
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boat big ice boat
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sail cheap
for sale



(originally published in eGoPHobia, Fall 2019)

Grandview Heights

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)


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)

The Way Things Go

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)

Seesaw (California / Ohio)

I wanted to be a wayward lasso,
to toss and be tossed.

Racetrack for the rainy season.

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)