but it has always been this way

that the bones of the dead

nourish the land

*

lilac bush

i no longer have

illusions about my goodness

*

dearest maple

i am tired

of being the wind

*Published by Five Fleas (Itchy Poetry) on 5/25/23

acid mt. fuji

my room is dark, save for the glow

of my computer screen

& i'm moving to music

moving with music as if

i were no longer human

but a verdant leaf or hydrangea

or a pile of dried earth that lifts & twists

with each burst of hot wind

i touch

the air behind the air & finally

remember the space

between my lengthy dreams

& you weren't there

as you had previously always been

& perhaps

this was simply a chance

to be the person i was

before

before

*Published by Skyway Journal on 4/24/23

not even spring

my hands rush to greet

the freshly bloomed daffodils

*Published by Fresh Out: An Arts and Poetry Collective on 5/9/23