The world
is a squirrel
in the middle of
a country road
and– phone out,
music loud–
I can’t tell
if I ran it over.
(originally published in Ink Pantry, Summer 2023)
Short
Sensory Deprivation Tank
At first was suffocating.
In my throat was a sandbag.
After I practiced pushing the door
to escape, once I learned how to remove tension–
both arms hot dog-style past my head–
I became a floating head in a dead, still ocean.
Breathing itself was a plane running the runway–
the only sound in the universe.
(originally published in Brief Wilderness, Winter 2024)
Promise of Morning
broken wind through bent window
tonight estimates life long enough
to breathe sunlight
(originally published in Winamop, Winter 2023)
Forest Song
Hide these holes from death’s dentists.
Suburban wealth I heard is best eaten
slowly. We can be the beasts we were
warned against. My mouth and ear
are hollow. Follow endless footsteps
into forgettable forests. For this I sing
a song I hope you won’t remember.
(originally published in ARZONO Poetry Annual, Summer 2023)
They Ask What You Are
People ask you to make an
idea out of something you do
and they say it so casually
you don’t get what it is
they are asking for.
(originally published in children, churches, and daddies, Winter 2023)
I want to channel a simpler time
One without burdens. Without–
never mind. I’ve lost mine. I’m
brainless, more or less, the long
er I live. It feels cumulative. A
long tunnel. I’m reaching to
ward the exit. My arm can’t ex
tend enough to leave the sleeve.
(originally published in ActiveMuse, Spring 2023)
Mist
mess of red awash on
verdant streets your face
the mist eyes closed
a crease stained stagnant
now what stops me stops
you purple blue glimpse
a rainbow near your voice
a phone call never call
again give me the words
to say those words
(originally published in datura, Summer 2021)
Carcass
Don’t let what’s dead
linger.
Kiss the ground
before you rise.
Spill juice
into the river.
We have miles
to fly– the dream
carries us only
to the edge.
(originally published in Willows Wept Review, Winter 2021)
Wedding (July 3, 2022)
gnats in my eyes
the eucalyptus celebration –
rose gardens
(originally published in Avant(Appalachia), Spring 2023)
Alive
Show a baby grass
for the first time
yes
there will be more of that
(originally published in SAND, Spring 2023)