Vodkas ignite a serious conversation we sing cacophony
our mouths open machinery in the room whirs the gears
clank and then the whole dark bar lifts its legs and flies
no windows though
we perceive sudden shifts as turbulence impending
storms we move as far from as we can talk about
(originally published by Mad Swirl, Winter 2022)
Above me, wing soundwaves visible, a flapping
back to easier days, a communal grass I could
not know I was missing, but did. Voices in my head
clamor for them, always, from windows in the bathroom,
the glowing lights’ buzz, this temporary body, not simply
the hands washed, nor the heart, the mouth, the tongue,
each breath, each thrill, each paper airplane landing on
its own brown rectangle of nothing.
(originally published in Unlikely Stories Mark V, Winter 2023)
sometimes at night
I bless my own heart
like I have authority
to give the balloon
floats away it is
hallucinatory thus
I greet a little tiger
toiling in the jungle
of the cupboards
oh what a pantry
we could have if we
could hold a job
in which we held
each other close
tying the knot
with teeth
in a stalk
of grass or
the celery
we snap
its little
green
heart
(originally published in Chronogram, Spring 2023)
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)
Where I go from here, I cannot say. Stacks of uneven
boxes. Manufactured forests. The power of chainsaw
abused. Pull a cord your teeth shiver. I didn’t change
the thermostat when you asked. I was absorbed
into my own world by the time I walked downstairs. My
mind an ugly barge. Never swam confidently enough
to be here, in the middle of the ocean, no North, no
sun. Sharks in my mind, their triangle teeth and speed.
Jonah and the Whale. Dinnertime has passed. I do
not plan to eat until I learn to quench my sorry thirst.
(originally published in Maryland Literary Review, Summer 2022)
The cafeteria was too
massive yet still the size
confined. Don’t want to talk lunch
meat. Or Drew at the table, harping.
He is inconsequential so why do I
mention him, twenty-some years
after? The bullies are the ones
who stay. I got smacked in the head
by a basketball there. The only fair
fight’s a food fight. Today, he’s
famous. He doesn’t know I have
this story to tell. I
drifted in and out of consciousness
for a week after. I floated
in the river, involuntarily.
That version of me drowned.
I never saw him again.
(originally published in The Scop Magazine, 2023)
blue house
with a blue
tall weed
sunflower heart blue
snake on the window
board half in half out half
void no sun no blue
the sky fence
hill inside blue
not blue no
blue is the fire
smoke and eggplant eyes
blue death in drawings
a deep blue wind and water
dirt on my face and hands
cobweb and dust blue dream on blue
is purple is blazing eyes in your skull
is my skull same face different
blue flat and bright light
blue silk on blue bed
(originally published in Ginosko Literary Journal, 2021)
Friday night patio party.
Drinks with the server crew.
The Exterminator untangles
cords behind the stereo,
a glowing green-eyed demon,
excited to unleash
a swarm of houseflies
into our ears.
(originally published in eGoPHobia, Summer 2021)
I see men being men on the road to lovemaking
you left me because you’re not news every time
in the same time that’s how I am when I desire
no one is too thinky
I am still a junky for it I am violin aloneness
I spin I spin to you
you smoosh my love when we are there at the same time
when how it is is the same every time
this one to know us is true
love is meant to be thinking
to know how to flower greater things across the ocean
leaves so white you can’t have me my eyes still have you
this is the tress to thread
love being a river and being with no name
when you’re with me inside me
tubes sucking the dream of myself
I hate that I still have me
(originally published in Fleas on the Dog, Summer 2020)
This is a binding between nature and mankind
unexplainable through philosophy. The trees
want to reclaim us or, perhaps, themselves.
-K. Santiago, “The Whispers in the Wild”
World Cup – athletes at their peak
when the affliction struck.
Crushed leaves in snot on tissue –
it’s nothing. I was Ubering people
around Columbus, heard the chatter.
Can trees grow in brains? Is the new
trend snorting deciduous?
I tapped the CNN app– first it was
a world-class saxophonist struck
down with a green cold.
Next, football stars from Paraguay
and Russia, all blowing chunks
of trees into white, softer trees.
The first doctor to log a patient
said it’s nothing to worry about.
After a week the test showed invasion:
prickly pines a long spine in the nose
and the headlines bleated MEAT TREES!
It was early morning in the haze
of dreaming when my nose dripped forest–
I wiped my hand across the stream,
the flecks of blossoms blooming.
(originally published in Cough Syrup Magazine, Spring 2020)