Poems

The numbing aftershocks as four farm families buried sons in closed caskets, automobile rubble robbing her last chance…

The smoke doesn’t choke me anymore. I took the hell you made for me and made it home…

Some catalyst would send my heart racing, my lungs suddenly too large for my rib cage. Mouth glued to a vaporizer…

My friends detonate their truth bombs right in my face.

Not meant for fingers or your branding pain, my skin turned inward that day…

He fell from fatherhood, and said the fall was slow, like water through wood. He said he didn’t know. That’s all.

In the bathwater I see rose petals falling on a little girl in pigtails & sundress reaching for your manicured hand In the mirror I see raindrops

Zen of Instruction
You say, “Hey, you know,
that makes a lot of good sense!”
I feel gratified.

I know how it feels to be overwhelmed by the darkness and to hide in the warmth of its claws. It can all be shifted in the moment…