Hurricane, 2017

The whole year has been hurricane season
in this nation of bayous haunted by ghosts

of cowboys shooting bullets into the clouds,
gunsmoke in the air, then a disaster of rain.

Save us, God, from these dark clouds looming–
there are too many more bodies to save.


(originally published in The Los Angeles Review of Los Angeles, Summer 2019)

Homesick (Dissociation)

Tulip tree in Alaska. Cold
and wild. Rembrandt blue

Christmas lights, shepherd
pie a warmth of familiar metal

stovetop. Doorstep. Gold
beneath nothing but rusted shovel

mnemonic arms repping
dumbbells. Must be strong

in clumps of conviction. The south
says the creator God’s a yes.

Freeform jazz. Bubbled
champagne. Festivals devoted

to home. Houston before me,
Texas a pink tie knotted.



(originally published in bluepepper, Winter 2018)