Clustered leaves form a nest for the cloud
as I lie below, the tree’s outstretched arms
strengthened and still, waiting for the sky’s crown
to up and flit away, and I sit upon the tree’s feet
like a second weight, fragile as a burden,
heavy as royalty.
Scrapes and scuttles above my bed
but beneath the record player crooning
carols for the sliders and shufflers
to grate and whoosh to-
Do tree and garland rise in the upstairs room?
Or does the furniture scoot to perfect
And that, for feet to twirl and sway-
for the first or hundredth time?
With arms open as wide as the heartsRead More »
Place me among the breast of the blue jay when it claps its wings,
that I too may turn concave,
blown back by its power’s rush,Read More »
It is with urgency that the crickets chirp in each other’s gaps.
The wind rushes through the reeds on repeat,
as a lapping wave. And the owls insist
on crying out their rhetoric. Would that I had doneRead More »
My feelings towards you confuse me,
or at least they would
if I ever bothered to think about them.
I don’t.Read More »
She wraps the word up in French,
like a foreign language leaves her
one step removed
from the vulnerable truth-
she has a love in her handsRead More »
I like to jump.
Jump is the good thing for me.Read More »