Monday, May 26, 2025

Steel Perch

I

                                     a                    m

      sur      roun                                                                                ded  .

Con                                                                   crete 

c                  ur                         t ain                                       s

                                   stif                                                                                    fly 

                con                                          ceal

   ____ what  _____________ could______________have  __________ been.



A bird with no cage. 

Blobulating

The history 
stitched across 
        the bridge 
of my nose 
in carnation 
pink creases says 


heed the
  jutted pull 
  of a slithering 
   zipper striking 
  from a 
sleepless 
        sleeping 
  bag snake 
 preying on 
an eager 
    teenage girl 
    tum  bling  a  round 
a boy-shaped 
blob also 
not sleeping 
     on a
bed of 
    undulating
sand 
with 
no


known curfew

Thursday, May 22, 2025

Luciferin

1.
Firefly morse code
from inside the vast mouth 
of a sleeping day.
B     L       INK       I    NG
good night because 
in this moment 
it is just that. 

2.
Cool neon 
airborne pheromones
perennial bloom burst.
Their silent fireworks 
deliver a celestial body
into cupped hands.

3,
A sacred summer ritual,
complete. 






Sunday, March 30, 2025

BIGGER BLACKER DEATH

I CAN ONLY ASSUME
BOB KAUFMAN SWITCHED
TO ALL CAPS
TO SCARE AWAY
THE BURNING AMERICAN 
SON ALONE 
FOR ALL ETERNITY
AND RATTLE THE
BLEACHED BONES OF A POET
BLEEDING OUT IN 
POEM AFTER POEM
UNTIL HIS OATH 
OF SILENCE
BECAME PERMANENT. 

March

We are expectant 
mothers eagerly 
awaiting your delivery 
room to open 
mouth roar then 
in a yawning 
bore and
indiscriminately sprinkle
green
EVERYWHERE.

Matisse millions
of unblended strokes
unstruck matches
stiffly wait 
to be sun set 
afire. 



This Poem Is

a bridge to an island
inhabited by 
a single person

uncaged intimacy
holding light up 
to a place that has only 
existed in total darkness

unrecorded names
etched in stone;
marking graves I 
never dared to recall
or memorialize

a sacred sanctuary 
where I can run
into myself and discover 
we speak the same language 
in a crowded land

a rule-less expression
children know instinctually
but, adults carelessly shed;
forgetting that a captured 
imagination makes
our dreams real

an urgent call, 
an uncorked bottle,
a game of telephone 
where contact turns silence 
into a permanent 
and pertinent connection

effective action after
being idle for too long
expanding self 
into glorious multitudes 

a bomb 
shelter for one
that ensures my survival
should the world
come collapsing down 
around me

a microphone
at long last 
that no one 
can drown out

the actual sound of my voice. 




 

Friday, February 28, 2025

For Lira

Buttery coos;
hello birdie.

A voice
in your rosy
breast fine-scale
woos the new
day to peer
over the horizon
and stay
fixed upon
dueling syrinxes

in disbelief of
competing radiation
touching bare
sky first.

I don't believe in heaven,
only your

                                       g
                        n
         o
s
         o
                        n
                                       g