Thursday, November 28, 2013

I send these letters into the void

My dear, I write to you
from a sleeping house.
we own a cat now,
or he owns us,
for as long as
he wants to stay.

William Golding destroys
my faith in mankind
more smoothly than you do
but in a dream the other night,
you were the one who could save it..

There is so much of you
in the rain tonight
I got myself ill from walking
in the weather

(it was totally worth it,
it was as if you held my hand)

I send these letters
into the void
and hope they find you.

Wednesday, November 27, 2013


I write so you know where my heart is -
it's in your black jeans front left pocket.

Hand wash in
warm water.

Do not bleach.
Dry in shade.

Do not iron.

Monday, November 25, 2013

Not this day

Eventually you'll win.
You'll hit me so hard
I'll give you up.

Not this day.

Sunday, November 24, 2013

Novikov Principle

There must be a trick
to prevent your bones from being smashed,
your heart from being dissolved,
when going through a wormhole.

It's all of a sudden,
I'm whole again.
All of a sudden,
back to the last time
we saw each other.

Because I know now you won't say goodbye,
I know  now you'll make yourself unreachable,
I know now you'll always come into town
on a tight schedule for the next five months
(or years),

I see you.
For the last time.

There must be a trick.
I haven't been taught it.

(Shared with Poets United)

Tuesday, November 19, 2013

After you fell asleep

A thought of you
halfway through
my third class.

he may be watching 
the sky from the library window,
the thought.

Later a poem
about a boy who will
never fade.

you left us all with things
we'd remind you for:
a night exploring the yard,

a secret recipe for a dish
we'd be unable to bake,
a conversation in the dark.

I said it to your face
right after you fell asleep:
I give no one else this heart.

Monday, November 18, 2013

Forever the orange clouds

all the sorrows in the world
are in the sky tonight.

living isn't easy.
falling in love.

the eyes who can see
under a person's skin.

a heart flying the highest tied to a kite tail.
forever the orange clouds.

being able to forget
the names of the days.

Sunday, November 17, 2013

Sticks and clay

It's not as if I was going to die - he said.
And I remember wishing it was.
Because death was something I could deal with.

I wanted to tell him he was someone
I'd like to spend a lifetime with.
But I never knew how to ask.

Then, he parted to find out what the world was made of,
what life can a life be when you
have to build yourself out of sticks and clay.

I stayed out of the way. 


Because the world doesn't stop spinning,
things are never in the same place.

This which used to be anger now is silence.
This which used to be joy now is sadness.

This which use to be hope now is pain.
This which used to be love.

But you trust Lavoisier,
nothing is ever lost.

Because the world doesn't stop spinning
and you're in the world, you too will be changed.

Saturday, November 16, 2013

Dreams and fish

A wall. I see a wall
where there was
a garden

Lillies shared space with daisies and dreams
one could always read in the fountain
among the colorful

I was so young and foolish when he told me the story,
he surrounded me with endearment,
helped me shape the

Now I'm older, he left, I have different eyes.
Lillies and daisies are all dead.
Dreams and fish are all

Friday, November 15, 2013


has been
the most loyal
I've had

and still we are
so uncomfortable
around each other.

What the heart wants

You move fast,
at a steady pace,
always farther

from the universe
I can touch
or hold against my chest,

When I find you nowhere,
I'll tell the story of
how I've been emptied.

I go over all the things
lost or gone the past year
night and once again

trying to retrieve
every memory of you -
dusty or broken

so I know where they belong,
so they can't be erased
or overwritten.

Wednesday, November 13, 2013


Here's to counting out my weak spots
and bleeding them out.

I dare you,
whoever you think you are,
to touch them,

if that's what it takes
for you to believe me real.

Friday, November 8, 2013


They come all the way
across the Indian ocean
past the Cape of
Good Hope
and beyond it,

her head and
to find solace
in the words
I write for you.

She presumes
I understand the patterns
people who part
imprint on the souls
they leave behind.

I don't.

She eavesdrop
as I talk to you
in each and every line,
she knows my fears
and still finds me brave.

I'm not.

Except in my dreams,
when you come close and
I'm embraced
by your presence.
I'm invincible then.