I Met You Today

No pillow comes without residue.
At our age, blessings come in small forms…

hands cradled together,
words buried in sweet breath,
unconditional nights,

Tell me about your exploration, about
fingertips trickling down
spines do not break easily, do they?

I met you today,
I see your influence and result,
you probably know
that I see through blue eyes,

saturated by the way your fingertips move.

Better Than What’s Out There

He never went out and shot someone.
When he gets hot, he crumbles like
dry wall.

Yeah the petals come off, but it’s not
his bullet. His bullet passes through
everything but glass.

At that point, his nerve is out of his mind.
He runs on instinct.
I look at it as reasoning.

He doesn’t want it to fragment.
It’s not effective, but
if I have a BB Gun that looks like a 45
and I point it between his eyes,

I’ll make him better than what’s out there.


I see that one arm is stubbed
by something. No one else can see
this, like it isn’t true.
To them, I am tragedy,
and I let them.

I am a hot potato
and they drool over food.
My crippled hands shove their
mouths full of muscle.
They like it raw
and tough.
So, I give them my back bone
to gnaw on,
they snap it like baby pea stock.

I spend two years in the ground,
done with legs
and feet
and toes
and balance.
I buried myself in dirt,
living with termites.

The thing about termites that no one else can see,
is that they aren’t true. To them, we are tragedy,
and we let them.

About God

He may kill me
in plain love, He has
done more already.
His words are iron,
a heavy chain crushing
my fight.

I left a sleepy hill
for His voice.
My feet ached with disapproval,
but I went, as a soldier,
and shall we fight?

I hold armour in my lungs,
but my hands are wasteful,
braided together in conversation
with God. I would be proud
if I had it now. I would offer
everything, but question.

Here, He comes!
Don’t be late. I think
we settle on a couch, sinking
into resentment, I feel His chain.
I am not, but is He

Inside Out

It starts with a doorknob,
a brass trombone turning out
mouse squeaks.
Tiny little mouse pellets
squeeze out of my pores.
I watch them drop to the ground.
Still, waiting for respect.

But, it started with a violent door.
Swinging away from force,
away from poison palmistry,
which, in fact, I read.
Which, in fact, I understood.
Or it was the mouse being
meek; naive.

I swing with doors now. After wooden frames
attack my conscious, I become sub.
I create layers of plumb paste up,
licking drywall,
growing asbestos,
swinging from summer to fall,
landing in winter igloo’s to be swept away
by spring baby sprigs.

Only the mice can bring me back.
Salt sweeping palms turning
yellow bellied
rats, wringing out gathered droppings
of last year.
Only the mice remind me
of stagnant feces laying around
my house,
my home.

And with a cold, slick doorknob,
I turn my insides

Emily, The Tightrope Walker

walks with rotting feet

turned out
birthing hips
with her jellyfish

her path has become
as thin as her
starved bones

between survival and

with her nervous order
whispering steps
an aimless rope
an unambitious line



The Bugs

Oh! The bugs are marching
my head, my head

my head
it’s latched on by

Thank God! Else it
would have shaken off
with rickety waves of
I am standing on

thousands of microscopic
bug legs
fashionably strutting
in hand crafted
black leather wedges

chewing up
the poise that carries me
through rocky terrain
cement bricks of

trampling my resplendent
of backbones.


Cryptic House of Knowledge,

I stroll,
I shift around your
halls – the deep and starving
space – hungry for
ambiguity and definition!

Where is the edible material hidden?
Do you have a frozen room
where you store it for keep?

Not frantic, but fixed!!
I want!
I need!
I am fierce on my knees….
I beg

Give me what I seek!!!

A deep rumbling vibration rips through the floor, knocking me from
my roots. I hear my bones crunch and snap as I hit
the concrete.
The House answers. It is evident. Strong.
The rumbling becomes deeper. It is here!

I roll against a wall, for
a seeker has no haven.
The building ripples and rips,
the walls shred
and crumble around me.

I am still.

I watch as a cyclone tears down the
structure that protects me, ripping through cement
and stone
destroying all that I had known.
The outside light came pouring in and
I am exposed!!

The cyclone stopped in its spot,
turned, it found me.
My frightened frame could do nothing.
The heart could not beat.
The lungs could not breathe.
My body and I just sat in fear….

The twisting tornado did not move
from its place, but
targeted my eyes,

and I understood!