This Place is Us

Come here, this place is fetal
There are no ruffles in these sheets
It’s a shelter built with my arms

I have kept and framed your smile
That made my resting swords clank together
because light crashed into this place

Your love is clove-shaped rubies
I will sew them into the window glass
Your love is paint cans
I will dab these walls with a silk brush
Your love is unending velvet cloth
I will vest the ceiling with it

Your love is thickening broth
To be stirred with my lashes
And when it’s cooked and piping hot
I will let it stain and scald me
so I am never free of you

This place is fetal, this place is us


I’m Late for Dull Weeds

I’m wandering in a market
All I need is some flowers
to prop up a dull dinner party

Here I lay in search
Amongst wreathes and bunches,
buckets and tape

By the squealing cougars,
There by the tape and ribbons,
Looking down into a mirror
The finest organic mirror

Stray strands off the top of her ears,
Like streaks of fancy in this whirring place
She looks up to work her trade
And I look into the framed painting

Her face is a bouquet of fresh flowers
Resting in them a pearl necklace
and the petals humming a lark’s melody

She hands me an autograph of her face
And I trot off, bespectacled with mist
Like having looked into a waterfall
To that dull dinner party

The Guilty Knife

Please open the window
I’m drenched and my nipples are burning
The banging will stop if you open the window
My last words will change your heart

They will mop up the ache
The lights are about to change
Please open the window
I faint when I see your tears

Please just open
I know you’re bleeding from the gut
And I’m carrying the guilty knife
I love you, I said, as I banged against the rain.

This Bar Needs Better Lighting

The last thing I noticed
is the vodka spritzer in your hand
As you lowered yourself down
like your wings were just made gossamer

The leather beneath you sighed and fanned itself
from the fire that just tumbled out of your gaze,
counting the number of people
that you will ignore

I won’t ignore you
or your face kneaded
into milk dough
I felt like a unwanted crease

Your face lit up
from the notification in front of you
Cackle after a giggle
after twin smiles

Those other men stopped looking then
because their lust doesn’t like human
Mine craves the familiar, like a morning brew with eggs
I’ve lingered and lusted long enough now

Back to my cubicle
Sparring with all my other neighbors
On who will concede defeat
and look at you again first.

Three’s Island

The height and breadth is enough for me
I have chains for veins, I’m alone in this galley
Home vanished three hundred miles ago
My sunny Spain dies there daily

The captain calls out that the island is nigh
He has chains for veins, he’s alone in this galley
There will be milk and honey on the island
my tomb and future

The judge back home slammed the gavel on her heart
He has chains for veins, he’s alone in this galley
My sunny Spain sentenced to glue together the shards and pieces
Before taken away, my last tears she used to seal shut her cell

The milk is sour, the honey is sandpaper at my throat
The judge gavels me, the captain howls, I pick at my chains all day
Sunny Spain dies at home, while I live life away from her
I have chains for veins, I’m kept company on this island


Only Love at This Height

as I fly, my shoulders stay warm
by this blanket of light
a heart beat becomes a breath
unfolding through the blanket’s glow
there’s no end in sight at this height
this blanket will be a mother’s womb
and a teacher’s class
a waiting room to receive comfort
and free notes handed out to teach me love

Don’t Slay Me

Message me tonight

Tell me that you can’t do it

because I want to tell you

That there’s a riot going on in my heart

voices hoarse because of you

my heart sore because there’s no you

bringing peace to the disorder

I dream about moving hair away from your eyes

I want to look into them

and see where my place is in them

You told me to surrender

and I have

I have acquiesced to you, the impostor

You may come now into this old hardened castle

with rotten moats and dying doors

Don’t slay me unless you’re going to kiss me

Don’t end me unless you will fall into my arms to celebrate

Don’t smother me unless you will pour sex into my pores

Don’t bury me unless you carve your bed into my chest

I publish on Mondays and Wednesdays poems, short stories, and personal essays.


A King’s Decree

As I walk the plank, I lose heat, my eyes do fade

My feet, they freeze, the sun turns blue, then you appear

I say, I love you, I hurt, and that I’ll miss you

Will I live in your mind, will you let me stay there?

Will you allow my air to flare, in your quiet care?

As I drop to the wave, I hear a final groan

I ruled the weak like a king, and I made them fat

But the queen chose to live far, why I will never know

I Apologize


The cream polish sticks under my nails as ghee

And sweat dangling feet at the seam of my back


This, my croaky confession at your still, cold feet

I wanted your stare to be level, not sink, fall

But I dreamt while I put you back on your stand

Your hands erect, sturdy, gallant at my neck’s valley


Your breasts attest indifferent, brushed against me


Your breath on my neck like feathers, drops of honey

I rejoiced


My feet scurry, darting, flit ‘bout like flambé


My bite nipped your lip for a minute exactly