Poems

She gave her life to art while her lover was tortured in the wing. My father would stare at the long avenues ahead.

where the humanity around me dissolves into bodies and the humanity within me dissolves into mind.

Will my life be analyzed through a feminist lens? It sure as hell would be boring if you approached it biographically.

The basement flooded and I watched the water fill the house to the rim. My books were ruined and I began to write my own.

My first time alone on New Year’s Eve, future uncertain, past unresolved. The desire for time travel escapes me.

We heal and grow big hearts from the shatters of explosive heartaches.

“The sensual wetness of the sand beneath my feet is balm to my seared soul. The siren song of waves beckons.”

My blue ocean sadness. Kept from you, hidden from view. So I keep docking at the same port of hurt.

The warmth of your small body seeps through cracked exterior penetrates deep into this caked clay.