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

did you know

that peonies can live

for more than 100 years

and sometimes

a poem doesn't need to be

about anything more

than that

*Published by Fresh Out: An Arts and Poetry Collective on 4/23/23

“i don’t write love poems”

i said

before i

met you

although i’m too shy to admit this

when i ask

how the stars are tonight

what i mean is

i want to be there with you

believe me

i want to tell you everything

but in order to do so

i would need

to strip down to the bone

and do you understand

my dear

how frightening it is

to be so raw

you fall asleep so quickly

and that’s fine with me

to see your golden waves, spilling

over your closed eyes, dreaming

is perhaps

one of the most beautiful things

i have ever seen

and after the pepper spray

the rise and fall

of your belly

was the only thing

that stilled me -

that held my scream

inside

recently

while on a walk i saw

a small white butterfly

it moved more easily than

a quiet summer breeze

*Published by Fresh Out: An Arts and Poetry Collective on 10/8/22

almost

instinctively you reached

for my body // hip hold

for comfort

you know i would have preferred

a beginning in the ending

i found another

tepid soul to consume my tongue

swan dive into a pool

of molten water

*Published by Fresh Out: An Arts and Poetry Collective on 8/10/22

 quite silly, indeed

to say that

a rose is

only a rose

*Published by Fresh Out: An Arts and Poetry Collective on 7/10/22

right now

it’s hard to find beauty

in the wreckage of my life

with a fist raised

i share my anger with the trees

surely they must know

what it’s like to be torn asunder

*Published by Fresh Out: An Arts and Poetry Collective on 6/9/22

 interlude

can i admit

i miss being touched

held, desired or even

seen

divorce is brutal like that

when i need love most

it is ripped

away

*Published by Fresh Out: An Arts and Poetry Collective on 4/17/22

 shrapnel...

but all i want

is the soft touch of rain

*Published by Fresh Out: An Arts and Poetry Collective on 3/27/22

**Translated into French by Serge Tome for Temps Libres during the week of May 15th - 21st

 dipping into your midnight gospel

*Published by Fresh Out: An Arts and Poetry Collective on 2/27/22

 suture

our bodies

woven together

black dripping

with night

i exhumed

each thread

a lifetime

of memories

undone by

my hand

*Published by Fresh Out: An Arts and Poetry Collective on 1/23/22

a warbler sings

to an audience of dust

in dreams

i am always stuck

in the wrong universe

*Published by Fresh Out: An Arts and Poetry Collective on 6/23/21

 nocturne...

the blue

within blue

*Published by Fresh Out: An Arts and Poetry Collective on 1/31/21

 flame

must you

tempt my hand

*Published by Fresh Out: An Arts and Poetry Collective on 12/16/20

 where the wind blows

                                                                  an afterthought

*Published by Fresh Out: An Arts and Poetry Collective on 9/24/20

tsunami

you ask

what it’s like

to live

with OCD

*Published by Fresh Out: An Arts and Poetry Collective on 7/12/20

the hope

of distant moons

warm rain

*Published by Fresh Out: An Arts and Poetry Collective on 3/23/20

Salve

Every once in a while, I just need to lie down on the floor, close my eyes, and listen to some good old-fashioned blues.

mm-hmm

when the record

scratches my itch

*Published by Fresh Out: An Arts and Poetry Collective on 8/24/19

winding smoke

your always

twisted truth

*Published by Fresh Out: An Arts and Poetry Collective on 8/18/19

of all

that I could touch

this pond

became music

*Published by Fresh Out: An Arts and Poetry Collective on 8/10/19; reprinted on 8/14/19 with a correction 

oolong

why rush

this moment

*Published by Fresh Out: An Arts and Poetry Collective on 8/4/19