You became my sanctuary
in the storm of my life
You became my safe haven
And hopefully, you'll be the reason
Why I was never meant to be with him

the sun burns
angel feathers
dog barks
choking on purity
an alarm in the distance and
thousands wake up
but can't remember their names
the tulip closed
around the beetle
and says child,
i will protect you
when black ink pours
out the ears
make it stop!
oh god, please
make it stop

i am
god's mistake
vicious, aggressive,
full of hate

i'm a dog
with sharp, sharp teeth
they grow back
when i've been beat

i sin and sin
and don't confess
don't give a ****
don't even stress

**** your god
and **** the devil
i am myself
i'm ******* special

oak roots dream
under soft snow
black bear purrs
in her den
the buck chase ends
i'll just rest my legs...
white pine sways
mighty sleepwalker
goodnight! goodnight!
calls the westward sun
that dream, that dream
echoes, dances
chasing its tail
green aurora
watches over us all

i sit in the coffee shop
writing poetry on a brown napkin
with a purple gel pen
remembering how my life was saved
by a cup of tea
beckoning me
out of my messy bed
out of my summer-sad head
and into the real world
with all its simple beauty
earthy warm green tea
but also
the hydrangeas in bloom
on the way home
and the little ladybug
hitching a ride on my shoe

nymph in january
beating earth-heart
thaws soil
boots sink in mud and
flying ants spiral
to the sky
tiny glimmering wings
raindrops
snowdrops
drop dead
humming bugdream head
i thought it was spring, he said

something
about the water
just the right temperature
the earth dreams and
proteins coalesce
life, out of unlife
i dip my big toe in
a trilobite comes up to bite it
from the sun touched silt
poor thing, i think, stroking its back
poor thing to be unmoored in time
poor thing, suffocated because the earth
changed her mind, tried again,
words erased on a page,
skittering legs going still,
belly up,
silt bed,
sand grave,
dark sleep without dreams

there is something special
about the poetry of children,
the art of little girls
half remembered stories
spilling over from a past life
soon to be forgotten
scrawled on lined paper
decorated with stickers
scraps of fabric
and fallen leaves
a grin missing teeth says
"how do you spell angel?"
all innocence, sugary innocence,
but there is none here
this one draws devils
dancing at night
where have you been?
what have they shown you?
why do you already know
a hundred ways to use the colour red,
smashing markers and crayons
until they bleed and scream?