I have always questioned
the mechanics of mundane
things, such as how
the dishwasher works
or where pants land
in relation to where
I placed them initially
in the washer, but birds,
I never question
how they work. They
have wings and they
flap them, what’s
the problem?
(originally published in The Stray Branch, Fall 2023)
Perhaps divinity is in devotion– pages of text
over thousands of years, eternal rambling
in the clockwork ticking the days to etch in
stone the wings I’d searched away, blind
faith in running water, erosion of the endless
nights I’d stay awake to eke out meaning.
(originally published in Penmen Review, Summer 2022)
I know nothing
about you anymore.
Can’t remember conversations.
Sometimes you are a leaf
blowing past the yard of memory,
a whisper likening
myself to wind.
(originally published in Subterranean Blue Poetry, Fall 2020)
How wriggly, how slippery
these beaches of men– like sand
between your toes, in your toenails–
they washed up in the storm to take
up space wherever they can, however.
(originally published in Euphemism, Fall 2021)
sometimes to sneeze is
a wave crashing onto
a piano at the top
of a staircase
and the force
of rejection
is but a small
concerto
with fins
(originally published in WordCity Literary Journal, Spring 2023)
moss spirit water
air with freshness
unknowing us
capable I understood
how much to lose
beside leaves
wilting off
trees onto grass
to grow anew
(originally published in Ginosko Literary Journal, Summer 2021)
on your bed was revelation a coming
to know purple paint with third-floor
view the pines and run-down houses all
strangers because we too once only
knew each other in name then your cat
nuzzled nose against my legflesh and we
sipped on beers we left on the nightstand
to finish later when the last bitter note
lingered on our tongues
(originally published in Academy of the Heart and Mind, Spring 2023)
I have gambled
away the guts to
admit what is
lost– all time
is temporary
& money the life
raft. I see
your bet I raise
you I will you
from the dead
(originally published in DoubleSpeak Magazine, Spring 2023)
after a while a magic occurs
blooming splashes the windowsill
creates a rainbow to heal what ails
the will its green misery sprouted
along peach-painted walls its
roots will take hold turn wilted
petal into mast on a boat of dirt
(originally published in CommuterLit, Winter 2021)
trying to keep you out of my mind in my room with the
locked door this too will wash away colors sacred I’d
dip my fingers in hiding holy underneath I promised
to take your cracked heart in mine I am not removed
from broken foundation the columns & wild dark
above all my art I just want you in my arms
(originally published in Alternate Route, Spring 2023)