POETRY

“Poetry is language at its most distilled and most powerful.”
—Rita Dove
Like dirt

this is what I want you to to see:
leaves falling because it is too late for them not to

Getting Postcards From a Piano Showroom

The two of us toast to a man we both love, to whatever degree, clink our glasses and laugh…

The Body is a Sin

The sin is existing.

Letter To a Young Poet

Do not say anything anybody else has said ever. Things are not “bleached by sun.”

I Garden at the Edge of Autumn

There is so little left of the tomato plants.

Finding My Fix

I slumped in front of a massive desk, a passive patient corroded with failure and dread.

An astrologer examines the luminaries governing her love life only to find

I have an axe
with hearts gashed

close up of sun
Mercury in Retrograde

You said it was okay to blame
what goes wrong on the planet

painting of apple and grapes
Feast Of

anger, like you can sink teeth into, candy apple

You can’t make them love you, no matter how artfully you betray yourself

Try not to see your own predicament in every fucking thing.

necromancer woman, witch woman

In my universe, my arm carries a heart and flowers,
my back a misguided quote

A Way of Seeing

Just starlight and some small scribbling across vinyl.

Sadness is a Sin

If my life was the size of my arm, I would stretch it out for you.

Fallout Shelter

I imagined a cascade of slow death for all / that mattered…

Welcome To The House of Static

here is the sky in stop motion, flickering,
a still shot in monochrome

appetites

you quit wearing pants
loaf around your yard
in hole-nipped panties

Lavandula

Listen to me: I know
the winter gloom in
mid-summer…

heavy rain
The Plot

Long after midnight, we’re talking about our first time

There is an alternative universe

Ghosts for hire, whispers in her mouth,
cysts to feel, the symmetry of a gift.

Aging Punks

Every so often, they add a tattoo
in honor of some long-forgotten love.