i smell wet forest floor and see my reflection is not still
i understand now that the world cries too
Jun 16, 2024
Jun 16, 2024 at 3:36 AM UTC
the pool quivered silver
rain running down her
hair continuous.
face in reverse reflection,
the water her azure
abode and sheet of
her bedroom window
silver her home quivered,
olive branch knocking at
door, rain running down
her cheek
her pool a lacuna,
rain livery slippery sadlessness
laugh at superimposition and
the surface stops its scintillation
and is still and there she is again,
porcelain and ageless as the moon
Jan 28, 2024
Jan 28, 2024 at 11:25 PM UTC
dusty velvet flowers next to bed
petals wither inward
gentle note of papery death
still reaching toward window light
water brown under through stem
alive as clear vase
in forgotten corner
Jul 9, 2023
Jul 9, 2023 at 8:05 PM UTC
i have one eye in this world
one eye in another
not an if-world
but a spilled space
that rips itself apart,
an otherwise world
where be-languages
fall apart in boundlessness
and do-languages melt.
i have no mouth there
where i sleep and fall into the lake
and i don’t float.
i don’t know how to swim
in there
but i know how to weave
and dig up my walls.
boundary walker, where is your wolf?
Mar 18, 2023
Mar 18, 2023 at 4:48 AM UTC
an ocean of words
wants to flow through
my throat and
pour out of my lips
into you
Jan 6, 2023
Jan 6, 2023 at 11:36 PM UTC
If I could take your hair on a loom
and weave the strands
into fine golden wool
to spin out a blanket,
I would melt down
into sleep
I think
Jan 9, 2022
Jan 9, 2022 at 5:18 AM UTC
I sit silently
chipping at my stone heart wall;
water greets my floor
Dec 20, 2021
Dec 20, 2021 at 4:28 AM UTC
From the great depths
words bubble up,
breaching the surface gently
with a silent puff.
Seaweed sentences drift up also,
through saltwater spaces,
from darkness to light.
Thoughts float like blue whales
riding a current,
they moan and whistle
against the massive distance,
looking for another.
My ocean mind is calm now,
shimmering at the surface,
but giving harbour
to poems I sharpen,
seen from above.
Oct 5, 2021
Oct 5, 2021 at 8:55 AM UTC
There's something to be said
for a sunlit room,
for the shimmer of the sea,
for a lit salt lamp.
But there's value too
in the meditative moonlight
of a mountainside
above the dark city
Oct 3, 2021
Oct 3, 2021 at 2:18 AM UTC