If it makes it past my heart
I’ll kill it with my hands
There’s an echo in the mountains
When the body lands
Category: poetry
Moons and Oceans
Not a person
But a planet full
Vast in its purple oceans
And many in its moons
Dragging me into your orbit
And drowning me in your
Violet waves
Stealer of Joy
In the morning
I reject the light
Ruin days and
Ravage nights
A brute forcing felicity
from its gilded throne
The joy that is lost
is the joy that was my own
Nightwalker
Treading softly
and leaping
from shadow to shadow,
existing only in places dark,
you find a sunken repose
in the folded corners of my heart:
a welcome stranger that I didn’t invite –
I only ever lose you in the moonlight.
Nightmares
My nightmares
are my own;
unfelt and unseen
yet the tremors
are heard in the morn,
dull echoes
hidden in sharp alarms,
falling to sleep
waking to rise
life to day
death to night,
ending its story
as we all do
in our fatal haste to new
Wrecked
Sometimes,
I remember that
the radio continues to play
as a car wrecks,
and I think that’s
how we often live –
ravaged by pain,
aware of our destruction,
and, yet,
humming along.
VD 1/4
You are a snow day,
a game-saving buzzer shot,
the first sip of coffee,
and the last page
of my favorite book,
when good defeats evil
and love wins.
Unity
I think our trouble
with “unifying”
is that we glorify
a beautiful, abstract
unity,
but never —
never —
choose unity
above
sharing each and every
fleeting condemnation
that occurs to us,
and thereby
keep unity
from ever
becoming.
Worship & Waves
Staying
She pulls me
gently
down a well-worn path,
littered with ferns and old letters,
and brings me to
a flowery clearing.
“This is always where they leave,”
she says,
indicating the barren field.
“Yes,” I say,
“this is it.”
“This is what?”
“This is a perfect place
to build a home.”
