Tuesday, September 27, 2016

From the honest at heart

He told me to just write a word after another,
as if I were drawing them randomly from a bag,
so I did.

I find it hard to make meaning
out of the result, though.
I write poems I cannot love

murky verbs and nouns
cling to my wrists, 
I'm spurned by language that bears light.

Sunday, August 7, 2016

Lacuna Inc.

Wondering whether I would
have you erased if that was a choice.

The elation of nights awake
versus the sad silent months.

The hours spent arguing casual intelligence
and deliberate stupidity.

How much of my grit
would suddenly be lost.

To tell of the person you made me
in the space of fifty-five words.

(Flash 55 Plus challenge over at the Imaginary Garden)

(I couldn't use the Plus word in the text, but I was driven by it. Lacuna Inc. is a fictitious firm in Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind where people go to have troubling memories erased)

Wednesday, August 3, 2016


I tell him I lose balance,
I am nauseous
and cannot breathe.

He likens me
to a will-o'-the-wisp
amongst the barks in a forest

and gently advises me
not fear the leaves
falling from the trees.

Sunday, April 3, 2016

Three or four years ago

It started out with words.

We were infatuated with
each other's thoughts,

so eager to occupy our minds with
each other's ideas

we would sit side by side at caf├ęs,
on boardwalks and spend hours

sipping from each other's psyche
before we harmonized silence.

"As we drank our tea, we chatted about our relatives, our childhood years, and our shared memories and we spoke ill of no one."
Orhan Pamuk, The Museum of Innocence


Trust child, this pain will
any time now
place you among the stars.