Six friends,
All huddled under the cover of night.
They have known each other
for eternities,
Yet each only for a day.
Sharing memories that they shared
From thousands of miles away
Before they even met.

The fleecy down of cloud cover
Is stretched over their heads
A secretive sleepover tent
But the only secrets they tell
Are they have only been keeping
From themselves.

And they begin to fill with something
Even lighter than air.
And they rested their heads in each others' laps -
The only thing
That kept them held down to the ground.

The damp, soft earth underneath them
Cold grass and the chilly morning dew
Forming beneath their fingers
Were the only things
To remind them that this life was real.
This moment was real.

Above them, the sky turned purple
Then orange
Then pale light blue.
And the morning came
Whether they wished it to or not,
Pressing into the next day as it did the last.

Only somehow, this was different.

my head is full of helium
i am floating away from this earth
into the frightening darkness of infinite space
drawn to the twinkling stars
and their promise of an everlasting light

but then i met you
and for a while it was nice to feel
the weight of your arm around my shoulders
your hand wrapped gently around my side
your knees knocking softly against mine
the weight of you holding me on the ground

for a while, we are happy
you are a warmth
you are a shelter
you are perfect
but i can't help that i am always floating up
our embrace is just the force of you
holding me down

for every moment that we are together
i have never been happier
so why can't i fight the unconquerable urge to set you free?

Oh sand…
You sultry temptress,
You lure me in with your promise of warmth.
You steal my senses from me with your all-encasing caress.
Cradle me
In your earthly *****.
Warm me still
With your sun-soaked tresses.

But as I lay with you
You cling to my side. Mold to my skin.
I fear that once I succumb To your tantalizing invitation,
I will never be without you.

A booth Made out of Fed-Ex blocks
Tongue depressors Still lingering with the taste of fudgesicle
Diagnoses Of cat-scratch fever
Of applesauce flu
Of –itises and –idias
One end of a jumprope
Held to one ear
And the other
Tracking the thump of a human heart
When the only illnesses
Were those of a sun-spent day
And playdate fatigue
We were all doctors
We could all
Save
           Lives…

A girl sits listening to the sky whisper
Secret lines to the brilliant sun
That listens to the apple tree
Where she defies gravity
Closing her eyes tightly; swinging
Keeping rhythm to the beats of the butterfly’s wings

And suddenly she too has wings
And can hear the clouds whisper
The branches all around her swinging
Shielding the heat from the sun
The sun needn’t fear gravity
Flying high above the tree

A boy sits under an apple tree
And watching the silky sparrow’s wings
As it flits away from the ropes of gravity
He calls out, a whisper
Wishing he were bold as the sun
But never stopping swinging

And with two feet on the ground he keeps swinging
Even standing tall as a tree
Looking to the bright sun
For inspiration on the sun beams’ wings
The wind merely a whisper
The boy can feel the gravity

The girl too, feels the gravity
But still she’s swinging
In the light of the setting sun
She hears a distant whisper
She slows under the heavy, wilting tree
And closes her wings

Softly the boy looks to the disappearing sun
As it gives in to gravity
Handing over weary wings
To steady his heart’s swinging
Looking past the haggard tree
To hear the reply to his whisper

Two hands together swinging
Two names carved in a tree
Two voices barely a whisper

With my first words
I struck a match
Like a flick
On the zipper of a faded pair of jeans
She notices
Unalarmed
Not convinced

I bring the flame
(Flickering with ambivalence)
Up to my face
Square between my eyes
And she watches

She watches
Behind glasses of dis-concern
The gloss of her eyes
Reflecting the light
Like lies

I make a motion
As if to blow out
The flame
A whispered apology
But instead

It catches with a click
The steps that lead across
A wood-framed arch
Between my eyes and hers

Heat-soaked hands
Climbed like a ladder
Rung by rung
To the space of disbelief
Living in the “o” of her mouth

The flames race
Faster
Burning the bridge
To the ground

Sitting in a whitewash kitchen
Gazing out the window
Winter glazed over the treetops sprinkled with icicles
Clouds danced across the sun
When there I saw
A curious sight
High in the skeletal branches of the plum tree
Perched midwinter
Read-breasted against a bleak, gray sky
A robin
Cooing softly
Its sweet music eerily misplaced
In the dead of December