Stillness set in.
There are no more waves,
only bird bath ripples.
I drink to me and my light.
To me and my night.
I opened my veins and set you free
and you turned into a lake.
There’s a boat where a couple sleeps.
They dream as one and
hope in two and
give color a pulse.
It breathes with a small mouth:
Open. Close. Open.
It wants a drink from my cup.
But for now, my cup is empty.


Something stretched and rubbed its eyes,
awake in a new light.
There are waves in the bird bath.
I drink to me and my night.
To me and my right.
I opened my veins and set everything free
and it turned into an ocean.
There’s a boat where
a couple sees and speaks.
They see as one and
search in two and
give color a pulse.
It breathes in, small mouth stretched wide:
Close. Open. Close.
It had a drink from my cup and it knows all.
For now, my cup will never be empty.

Can I be a little star on your ceiling?

You know, one of those plastic stars

that glow at night.

They watch over you while you sleep.

And if you’re like me, then you’ve already come up with some childish

notion that

they will protect you.

I will do that for you if they won’t.

I’ll be there to smooth your hair, to

kiss up fallen eyelashes.

But first I will watch them closely,

making wishes.

I will drink up your skin. It’s my wine,

strong and dark; it sets me on fire.

I will shade you from darkness

and bury you in light.

I will hold your secrets, your bright

hopes and dark wishes.  

And I’m here, hoping.

I have hope for you.

let's just take two

elephant-sized steps back.

my head's heavy and the

high always vaporizes at the

wrong turn and i risk a ******

of myself if i shove it all.

my hands always did shake

as your head cascaded like a waterfall

towards mine, and the weight of three

thousand more elephants would descend,

gray fuzz and rough skin,

all in a rush.

This is too much for one struggling

with her own language, it's like there

isn't one on her tongue at all.

The King’s trove, the Queen’s affection.

Or rather, her affectations.

Pretention is the worst kind of beast,

snarling in the corner and snatching out with snipe claws.

It wipes my nose with its shirttail, then pronounces my snot

something of wonder it has created.

It causes such an itch in my throat, ensuing a

gag that threatens to choke the flare within me.

Trust it, and you will be following those signs that declare

Ogres! and

Certain Death!

not far ahead.

You will reach under its nautical waves and

Duped! Done for!

Now say ‘hello’ to your watery hollow.

You won’t find God here, or even

an ounce of hope to take flight.

All that will be left is a bitter taste on your tongue and the sound of

“Why, oh why…”

I feel like a brick God puts under his foot
to reach higher elevations.
He is reaching for books that will teach
him how to make things unlike this brick.
Things that will alight and make bright
sun in the dark.
It’s hard to be heard,
being a brick under God’ s foot.
Such heavy things do not fit into sound.
But you help. You always help.
You pen your strings to my words
and they make delivered sound that creates space.
You lift my heaviness with God-given hands,
and God-given lips,
and God-given eyes.
I have been told of God-given life,
and God-given greatness.
So what is God trying to teach this brick?

There’s a factory on the outskirts
of town.
On the outskirts of the universe.
They fabricate bones there, and
crack open stars like eggs.
Stars and eggs share many qualities.
They have an outer shell, and it’s
penetrable, and delicate.
This delicate wall is holding the
juices of life.
One crack, two cracks, three, and
a flood gate crumbles and
life comes rushing in. Life juice,
star juice. They pour star juice in our eyes
and sow skin.
They put a mountain in one sown figure and
call it man,
They put an ocean in another and call it woman.
I was manufactured, factored,
a factor, it’s
Fact: in reality, in actual actuality.