We reject pain,

but how

that rejection

— that indominatable spirt

to thrive against loss,

creates the most



We’re warned

about the dangers

of the world —

the heat of fire,

the power of water,

the shifting weight of the wind —

but the world

has never,


wounded me

like the dangers

in my heart.

Lover’s Field

Every morning,

I push out

my love for you,

push it beyond my reach,

until I can no longer feel it.

Every night,

I see it standing in the field


hear it coming through the cracks,

closing in for another

suffocated sleep.



You always

look for peace

in me,

like a gambler




certain that


this will be the time,

that hope


your odds.

On Grief

Of course,

we suffer agony

when we lose someone;

how can you not,

when something

crawls out of your heart,

tears through your chest,

and sinks, blood-soaked,

into the soft earth?

Touchstone Tuesday: Poem XII

Music is a formed space

and lyrics, the beaten door,

when I hear a song played

I’m thrown onto its floor.

And, without authority,

I’m made to recall,

where I was and what I felt

when I first was made to fall.

Thrown back into the room

where my olden thoughts were sketched,

turned about by dancing memories,

I fell forward and I retched.