If there is no coffee
in any of these storefronts–
if I walk up another hill–
scattered branches, lily weeds
protruding from the pavement,
roses bending out of vases–
take me into the tree-
speckled shadows
before I rest there now.
(originally published in Winamop, Winter 2020)
Already I am much too careful about the state
of Kingsford’s joy when I rub his belly in bed.
He purrs, an engine idling midwinter. I do
not want him to run out of endorphins–
not expecting you to leave in December
I rushed to the driveway where you had bags
in the trunk. I have come to miss the footsteps
that used to populate the hours of our days
together. So I pet him now to make him
happy, delay our mutual depression.
(originally published in Fleas on the Dog, Summer 2020)
Masks encouraged. Totes hang on mustard
walls, all checkered. We’re in shorts and summer
shirts. I touch the bristle of my beard.
We’re allowed to now. To sip my rough mocha
between the gaps of my teeth under the hanging
honeybee lights, people all around me touching
their own faces.
(originally published in San Antonio Review, Winter 2023)
Each morning wake to glimmer.
Faucet water runs to the end of water–
I am breakfast cloak, frozen pizza
and a skinny. Reduces
and creates anxiety.
Though poor
I have water I want more–
start drinking
(originally published in Sybil Journal, Summer 2020)
Photographers on the lawn
snap life guitars green
mutated bees we swing
on the buzz bin of Eden
matchmaking pollination
we seek old holes to crawl out
of swishing vodka comes potato
new spuds supplant the hunger
(originally published in Flight of the Dragonfly, Summer 2021)
Every time I drive the 28th St. Bridge I always make the joke
to myself– should I really be driving on this?
It’s a paunchy punchline to no one and still I apologize for it–
a comment on the bridge’s chipped green paint and rusted
hinges, the (perceived) rickety short-distance, its creaking (I
don’t hear a thing). How close I’ve been to a laugh, some snicker
into an abyss– I’ve said much worse to people and not apologized,
driving over the strip after a fight with my lover, suspended
in the air a silence like tracking a FedEx truck with a package
you know will reach you but when? That apology– the tethering
between the space of sound, the hum of a hungry engine,
covalence of steel and structure bonding across a void.
(originally published in where is the river, Winter 2021)
Left at the light was the first move.
We observed traffic– cats watching
the world through a window. When
was the last time we were downtown?
All that population. And still no sign
of nature. Yes, of course, the bridges
twist into cyberpunk pretzels. I’ve
considered apocalypse but not like
this: a thousand bullets shooting
up the expressway toward a
vague conclusion.
(originally published in Viral Imaginations: COVID-19, Winter 2021)
I have cocked arrows at meaning
in libraries, coffee shops, cafes,
restaurants, bars along both coasts.
I doubt I’m getting close but found
a spot near my house with large
windows in view of construction
cranes, a crosswalk, a man eating
yogurt on the sidewalk as cars
drive past. He’s doing something
about his gut; me, I’m just trying
to write from the heart, my art
wending itself out from the street
into a mail truck, a magazine
placed in a box in an envelope
for my new hands to open.
(originally published in Dreich Magazine, Summer 2021)
spring wind
palette of butterflies
golden hour
the shuffled-card memory
flipped through photos
the month passed
(originally published in The Field Guide Magazine, Fall 2023)
Jobs– the real number field (unlimited
digits between two dreams). Your hard
work amongst the wolves– howl-at-the-
moon simulations, projections of progress.
Semantics, dynamics. You needed to feed
yourself systems: fluid flows, fluctuations,
heartbeats, celebrity. Your models are based
on the old scientists, to whom greatness
we all equate (implicit assumption of a
linear progression, your rate of desire in
lieu of time, space, and all its constraints).
Traditions are the equations to overcome.
(originally published in Magnolia Review, Summer 2020)