silver lining

in the blizzard

moonlight

*Published in the January 2020 issue of Stardust Haiku 

plot

twist

the

home

without

ghosts

*

desert

this how are you

fine thanks

*Published by Weird Laburnum on 1/16/20

One Drop

At some point, 

in the lifespan of my soul,

I want to know what it’s like

to be one drop of rain.

To fall from the sky and splash

into a flower,

and then linger

in its luxurious core.

Perhaps I could then,

every so slowly,

like the beginning of a rollercoaster,

dive from petal to ground,

and then nestle myself deeper,

deeper, deeper

into the warmth

of an inviting earth,

simply to rest forever

in her arms.

*Published by Dear Reader on 1/15/20
**Published in the Coshocton Public Library System’s Pandemic Spring: Poems to Get Us Through on 4/2/20

bass solo

rumbles of thunder

shake me awake

*Published by Haikuniverse (www.haikuniverse.com) on 1/11/20

before we were human the sparrow’s call

*

midnight

don’t we all

birth a universe

*

moonlit grass when our lives converge

*

free

if only

a theory

*Published by Heliosparrow on 1/10/20

*The first poem was short listed for The Haiku Foundation’s Touchstone Individual Poem Award

blank canvas

the earth covered

in fresh snow

*

a brush

of color

...spring returns

*

the Master’s Hand

flowers here

and there

*

a few leaves

redden

...chiaroscuro

*

endless art

nature’s glory

throughout the year

*Published in the winter 2020 edition of The Bamboo Hut

Elegy in 4/4

Neil Young once sang

it's better to burn out

than to fade away     which was

also    coincidentally

quoted at the end of Kurt Cobain’s

suicide note

we're always fixated     on youth

aren't we?

better to be famous when

old men can     sexualize // monetize you

when you

look taut in bikinis and heels

as saliva drips on

the magazine spread

your legs

Christina Aguilera once sang

you gotta rub me the right way

as a teen     and even as a teen I

knew that was super creepy

but that’s still played

on the radio     and we all

listen to it     bob our heads

sing along like

whatever

have you ever thought that     when Britney

the Spears one     went batshit

and shaved her head

maybe that was the first thing

she could do

for herself

*Published in Kissing Dynamite Issue 13

ripped wings what you make of faith

*Published in Sonic Boom Issue Sixteen
**Selected for the 2019 Red Moon Anthology

If I May Be Honest

not enough love poems

have been written

for the leaves

sparkling wildly

in golden hour light

or the river’s

tender aria

playing dawn to dusk

simply

for anyone who

wishes to hear

*Published in Fireflies’ Light: A Magazine of Short Poems #17

Why Not

you can be

anything in the world

so why not

be a parachute

covered in the most luminous

warm hues

helping others land

gracefully

after a most precarious fall

*Published in Fireflies’ Light: A Magazine of Short Poems #17

Hummingbird

it must be

how starlight

falls upon this

foreign city

because I tell you

I could roam this earth

non-stop

as the vagabond

I wish I could be

with only the essentials

slung upon my back

and your hand

nestled in mine

*Published in Fireflies’ Light: A Magazine of Short Poems #17

First Snow

when I see

for the first time

each year

the way snow reflects

a shimmering moon

upon a world 

fast asleep

I might as well

be a child again

opening her first present

on Christmas Eve

*Published in Fireflies’ Light: A Magazine of Short Poems #17

avalanche sobering up

*

azaleas opening a hymnal

*Published in seashores, Volume 3

blue

the memory

of seashells

*Published in the November 2019 issue of Stardust Haiku

quiet today

a palmful of stones

skipped along the pond

*

colder now

I sip my tea

with reverence

*Published in Another Trip Around the Sun: 365 days of haiku for children young and old

only silence

could end you

the way

dusk falls

*

uncertain

the crickets hush

hush now

*

the silver behind the wind I never knew

*Published by Weird Laburnum on 11/24/19

handle with care

please

do not incinerate

my remains into useless ash

or mix my skeleton

with the endless fog of layered

earth upon earth

clean my bones with reverence

dust them

shine them like the fine china

families pass down

generation to generation

and then gently use my bones

to drum out 

a rhythm only the sea and sky

could comprehend 

*Published by Poetry Super Highway (Poet of the Week: November 18 - 24, 2019)

wilderness

uncle asks

what I cost

*Published in Bones 18

every road a cliff after the bomb after the bomb

*

skeleton in the cloud I also knew as mother

*

more humanity than humanity late-autumn oak

*Published by Proletaria on 11/14/19

a used copy of e e cummings’ 95 poems 

i love it when a book smells like coffee. smells like cigarettes. like an unidentifiable existential crisis that i just happen to hold in my hand. <<< breathe in. out. again. >>> when the edges are stained and crumpled. smashed from a fistfight with recklessness or passion. <<< those are the same thing, right? >>> if this book could bleed it would. if it could talk it would scream every word at me. and oh God. yes. i would let it.

*Published by Dime Show Review 

bathed in red church bells ring

*

autumn leaves falling into has been

*

in the river drifting through an ellipsis 

*Published in the 2019 issue of Under the Basho (One-line Haiku section)

stigma

i would love to say

recovery has a finish line 

one where crowds roar 

as you break the paper divide 

with arms outstretched 

in hallelujah praise God 

recovery really is 

a thankless job you 

more or less do in the dark 

it’s also a taskmaster 

that waits by your bed each dawn 

sayin’ get up g-damnit 

don’t drown in victimhood 

and when you finally decide to hoist

up that golden survivor flag 

you begin to curse that title 

more and more each day 

all you want 

after all your scars

is to be a human 

free of mark

*Published in From The Ashes: An International Anthology of Womxn's Poetry

still a fairytale

once upon a time 

there was a young girl 

curly and tawny haired 

her home was filled with monsters 

that would scream and punch 

all through the night 

sometimes those monsters 

would even invade her in dreams 

their teeth would gnash as they’d chase her 

blindly through streets 

the young girl was always afraid 

so she began to knit 

her own dreams during the light 

in secret 

and away from prying eyes 

she was a princess 

an angel 

or a glitter-speckled fairy 

she realized she could be anything 

and those monsters

had no defense 

against the castle of her own design

*Published in From The Ashes: An International Anthology of Womxn's Poetry

weight of a word

age 22

the first time my therapist 

uses the forbidden term 

inc*st

i remember how that noun 

sank into my body 

an anvil dropping down down

into the sea

nowhere to be found 

for day weeks months 

i couldn’t even say the word

inc*st 

without wanting to vomit 

i even told my husband 

i wanted to die just to be reborn 

as if that would clean 

up those dirty places 

i dared not even touch 

so i stopped saying the word 

inc*st

called it the big bad 

big ugly 

my own personal Voldemort 

anything except the actual word 

to extricate myself from the reality 

that came barreling with it 

and that’s the problem 

you see 

how could i ever heal

from a word i refused to say?

i let that word place cuffs

upon my wrists 

shackles around my ankles 

and duct tape over my mouth 

the only way to break free 

i realized 

was to begin saying 

without shame or fear or filter 

that i survived 

the word no one ever wants to hear

*Published in From The Ashes: An International Anthology of Womxn's Poetry

bird of paradise

my untamed

hair

*Published in the October 2019 issue of Stardust Haiku