Palm Marks

Palm-marks press into soft moments 
A feathering lineage outlining  
The hands 
Of me 

I trace these branching wonders 
Proof of passage 
As delicately as I hold all the 
Entwining joys and sorrows 
They leaf from the same stem …

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The First Night

My memory of that night
Is fluid
The way memory is
Events flexing,
adapting, absorbing
the liquid context
of meaning.
Stories layered upon each other
alternate versions
of truth within
each textured discovery.
What doesn’t change
is the title;
the…Read more

The Quality of My Love

I am of birch and wind
The fickle response
To the urge for immediacy
And the slow breath
Of trees and stars.
This place in between is
Where I live.
Between silence and beat
The stillness of listening
I am…Read more


Did we know?
—in that moment
when our eyes met across that room, 
across oceans of time, pain, and place—
Did we know a secret magnetism
was calling us home?
Green on blue map markings,
course-correcting bearings
among all the…

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In the most literal content-based sense
Sisyphus had a problem.
A boulder shaped disparity
Between expectation and reality
Within the absurd monotony
Of a repeated empty struggle
Without change, without purpose.

​ Let's roll with this for a moment
Clearly…Read more


I want to reclaim #medusa
To turn the telling of her story
On its serpentine head.

​ Externalize the monster
Draw it out; poison from
A festering collective wound
Left by a god-culture
Intent on subjugation.

To place every slut-shaming…Read more


Breathe in. Breathe out.
Breathe in. Breathe out.
The breath as tides
Ebbing, flowing
Rhythms that define
The body's anchored home.

​ Close your eyes. Settle.
Let go the detritus
That clutters the mind
Plugs emotional floodways
Drift into the…Read more


Freud got it wrong.
Yes Oedipus killed his father
Married his mother
But that is not the story.
Those are the symptoms
The surface presentation
That if not examined
Becomes a diagnosis
Of lust and greed.

There is more, in…Read more


This is the borderland
This carefully constructed space
Between was and yet to be
We meet here, you and I
At the cafe
Where we order words that
Have not yet become
Taste the sweetness
Of honeyed potential
A liminal…Read more

Elegy for a Lost Love

What would we have done
If that last day had been known?
Would we drive to that place
The one from before
When it was just us
Where wind-rippled grass
Rolled in living waves
Where the white flash
Of your…

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You don't know. 
how could you? 

that beautiful 
mind dendrites 
twist to endure 
even the harshest 
of environments 
that this is survival 
that this is adaptation 
that what you 
call insanity 
is actually a reasonable response 
to unreasonable circumstance


The Wetness of the Sea

This morning I sat beside you
As you lay in bed, tightly closed
I tentatively touched your back
To feel the temperature of this moment
To gauge the subtle currents
Tempestuous yet removed
That swirled cool between us
I know…Read more