Nothing to start conversation with
but the glow of television, hors d’oeuvres
the crowd devoured and I could only stand
and gape at the electric wiring strung along
the ceiling that led to the hanging light
fixture, a metallic apple dimmed. I wanted
to talk about architecture but felt wildly
inadequate due to the bricks missing
in my brain, hammers clanking where
words should, my mouth full of nails.
(originally published in Poetry Super Highway, Summer 2020)
tin colander holes parts of me peeking
out into the kitchen horizon past the stove
which so very recently burned blue &
contained above potentially dangerous
gas of which you were in control
unlike last night you did the right
thing begging cathy not to drive
home her slurring sentences
& drunken desperation just
hours before all three of us
together I had to walk home
after downing Nosferatus
and you were there with her
drinking tequila when you called
to say now I really
have to say goodbye
but everything was fine you
arrived at your destination
but she wanted to
drive again the night
air thin
& shivering &
blue when she
departed
(originally published in Gingerbread Ritual Literary Journal, Winter 2021)
I wish I still had time to write you letters
but I am stuck between branches with heavy
workload. I want to commit again to art, at least,
to singing songs with you on the beach under
natural harmonies of seagulls. The forest froze
under another frigid season, so I come to shore
in a long trench coat, alone, held firmly between
two worlds: the one in which I don’t have time
to do everything I want, and the other, in which
I still don’t, but keep your words dangling close.
(originally published in Academy of the Heart and Mind, Winter 2021)
Again, a rainbow sprouting from your violin–
no, it’s no light. You never wanted to mother.
Music was the way– adagios hanging from
the clouds. But God had something in store–
come on.
What happened was we were drinking herbal tea
and you told me of new pregnancy within these
silent walls of our favorite coffee shop and I said
I’m sorry, I’m sorry because I didn’t know what
else to. And you said it’s okay, it wasn’t you, just
I had to tell someone. Because you no longer
write symphonies. The instrument collects dust in
your closet– where’s the music? We ask. You
answer: inside, swelling. If there’s one thing
you must hear, she will be a cadenza.
(originally published in Chiron Review, Fall 2020)
I had been eating like shit living
in my car, fingernails full of fungus.
We agreed to meet in Japantown
to enjoy a fancy ramen
but this would be my first
in many years
that wasn’t Maruchan
(cheap crinkly plastic,
cancer-flavored beef-dust
in a sawtooth packet)
& you must be aware the body
struggles to digest it.
During our meal,
two years since
we last talked,
the cheap ramen must have
intermingled in my stomach
with the pork-broth
real deal. I put an egg
on top for authenticity
when you told me you had
just bought Coachella tickets
for yourself & your brother
& I didn’t want to know the
price because I was living
on wages made on the days
I was lucky enough to
find work. Umami
lingered on my tongue
as we ruminated
in silence over
how vast the distance
our lives traveled
in different directions.
(originally published in Triggerfish Critical Review, Winter 2020)
I never want to
not be friends.
Cold bonfire
nights & joints
sore from dancing
to Shakey Graves
(Your friends / were
so true / when you /
were 22. / Now
you’ve got nothing
in common)
in a cabin
forgetting the world,
beer by beer.
(originally published in Black Dog Review, Fall 2018)
here’s your evergreen nowhere blue sky eyewhites your
lust for your best life I mean here is the reason sister
to run into you at North Market its coffee shop
years after hopscotch your palm tree blood
underneath it sister the last time we stayed up past
4 AM watching nature documentaries searching
for birds it was a metaphor at the time flying
out each other’s eyes how we’d be wordless
we’re wordless
(originally published in Reservoir, Summer 2018)
wish I still knew how to talk about games
movies television sports
blue fish waddling onto soil of questions trudges
leaves bodyprints wet move
closer to some common thread we may yet find
yet know a fishing line in the reel of your hand
mouth brain our friendship was incorrigible
as the moon in a poem in a lit mag
super nintendo and the cement unfinished
scent of basements carpeted staircases doritos
always going down down down
affection every thump downward
like the rest of life tumbling
through deserts of thought mist sandstorm
the sun wrangles some truth out of stranded
windows translucent sunlight
shifting across the wooden table
of distance time summers
(originally published in Scarlet Leaf Review, Summer 2018)
i bark at da ups guy not cuz i guess hes here to mess things up
but cuz hes here every day when ur not im wonderin y u go
away & y i cant come i would go anywhere wid u
so y does anyone go anywhere when im content ta sit where da staircase
bends & watch for u im afraid of knocks sometime somethin
bangin da door of what i name safe i sense da whole worlds fearin
& i can smell bad from a mile away deres so much of it i wag my stub
for makin it dis long . still i hope ull always come back from snow , rain
& surgery so i bark ur name da best i know when u return tho loud
& disruptive deres no different sound for love jus rattlin da home’s bones astray
wid my voice & wonder if some day itll all collapse sometime inta heaps of
forgotten timber & brick . id follow if u leave dat great clear barrier & return .
i spend my day lyin here thinkin of ways to tell u dat to shout
like from a mountain through da valleys as loud i can da whole clatter
best i know how like u do when u walk thru dat door
its da loudest thing : u fill my ears wid bells i can hear nothin beautiful else
(originally published in Delphinium, Summer 2018)
summer mugs me every time
muggy breath and hug of sweat
so hug me hold me let me know
I’m not a cloud who will sink
into a vapor or wave hissing mist
an atmosphere of melancholy hot
days that teleports me to L.A.
stargazing fame because anyone
who meant anything existed far
away celebrities or friends who
wait when you come home to drink
torpedoes in the square then explode
with laughter when telling them how
you lived everyday in a pile of socks
and neverending sunshine
(originally published in Abstract Magazine, Spring 2018)