Wind passes through my toes.
Sand shifts under my feet. One
million grains at my feet. I
want sea breeze hips,
tidal voices, and skin
pickled in brine. I am
reborn in the sun’s warm arms,
I, who belong to the sea
Aug 5, 2025
Aug 5, 2025 at 10:44 AM UTC
toy pails and sea shells vanish
beneath the creeping waves. a tot teases
his brother. the sun bakes a leathered face.
the lonely horizon reaches
for a steamboat, but never quite feels
its gentle bow.
i picture my old self floating
with the waves. away, from the loud stereos and shorebreaks. if im lucky, i’ll meet her
at the horizon.
Mar 14, 2024
Mar 14, 2024 at 2:29 AM UTC
fog on window panes blurs
the trees and faint sunlight
claws streaks down the
dilapidated couch where you
became a fixture of worship:
nights spent praying on knees
bruising for forgiveness. now
home is the potted plant
poking its head up towards
the sun; greeting him with
grace
Feb 12, 2022
Feb 12, 2022 at 2:14 AM UTC
deep under emerald green canopies
i hear the twigs snapping and leaves
crunching under your clumsy feet,
and i float away one hundred meters
from the tree that holds our hearts
in the bark, hurriedly engraved.
will you see me as a yellow dot flying
past the tree tops and mistake me
for a shooting star? or trail your gaze
to another beautiful place to escape?
the air has grown thick with smog that
blurs all sense of time and meaning, but
i’ll remember, by heart, the path to the tree
where you engraved yourself into me.
Jan 3, 2022
Jan 3, 2022 at 1:26 AM UTC
my heart will return to the earth
once more to cherish the soil where
i left you laying dead. here, and again,
a promise will glow in the ground,
and sound out for cool drops of hope.
it snows outside, but spring has
blossomed in my heart for the first time
Nov 6, 2021
Nov 6, 2021 at 11:09 AM UTC
a fox crawled into a desert yard
with frazzled fur and a broken nose.
looking for a spring or drop of snow,
he dragged along his splintered hope.
across dunes of sand and the valley
of despair, he marched along and sunk
his sins into there: in the sand, he’d tally:
broken dreams and streams out of reach,
and every day his tail drug heaviness
behind his paws, but he marched on
and on
and on
Nov 4, 2021
Nov 4, 2021 at 10:11 PM UTC
in the deep slumber of the night you
stand just beyond the pines where
my mother swore she heard a bear
threatening to eat my insides,
but to be devoured by love:
i would accept nothing less
Oct 23, 2021
Oct 23, 2021 at 12:50 AM UTC
do you still feel the wind creep
against the nape of your neck
when autumn blows its soft breeze?
my hair has since grown long
and dead in places; where life
used to spring from head and lung
rests some deadened pieces humming
a soft cry of longing and anticipation
Oct 14, 2021
Oct 14, 2021 at 2:27 AM UTC
it’s raining and there are four people
huddled in the living room under
a tin roof, and the rain droplets
pound down like our hearts,
thudding loudly, this friday afternoon
there isn’t enough room for a fireplace
and i think it’s growing colder with each
breath i shudder to take, but i like to
imagine that if all the broken pieces of
our hearts could be fitted together into one
a spark might, in the dark, ignite
enough to keep us warm for just tonight
Oct 9, 2021
Oct 9, 2021 at 1:01 AM UTC
at a pastel pool i saw you in the ripples
of the tide. you gave that winning smile
but i was too busy skimming stones to
fall for that trick again. the ground shifted
and the water rippled in every direction.
until, i stood facing you in faded technicolor. the red of my cheeks began rolling down my face like blood soaked tears and my skin grew even paler and the gold of my hair shed, leaving me a white haired medusa. i think you laughed but i couldn’t be sure. you are bright and alive now and laughing heartily on the banks. i do not know you, truly.
Sep 22, 2021
Sep 22, 2021 at 1:02 AM UTC