long voids of violence I am a citizen a city
telephoning the dark fodder fear
full of black spherical iron that killed
in a prior era mouth such force vertically
above the city center arrive
with the words of an impending meteor
(originally published in Academy of the Heart and Mind, Spring 2023)
After Matt Hart
seems like a good time to say
I spent months feeling helpless
looking forward
to this indeterminate light
we’ve been dreaming about
this industry
affects people
like a natural disaster
rolling through our days
until The End
rejuvenates us
makes us hungry
for The Beginning
a road trip a flight
a movie night haven’t
had one of those
in a while a cold
drink to jolt me
alive alive
until the dead
extend a hand
to bring me back
and I reach
for it too
(originally published in Delta Poetry Review, Summer 2023)
Soil shifts into sand. I sift through
the memory desert but images fade.
Apropos of data, imperfect as the sun.
Ever sit in existential crisis wondering
what if gravity ended? Would we
even know? A brisk death, clean,
and the photo album would
consist of something, a void
we wouldn’t be drawn to.
(originally published in A Thin Slice of Anxiety, Winter 2023)
Learning how to swim–
can’t say I haven’t
counted hours stars
float in the night infinite
darkness I cannot claim
sanctity within us. You point
to Orion like a familiar
neighbor like I would point
to a passing thought or ripple
believing it significant
as the moment passes.
(originally published in Artvilla, Spring 2023)