Oct 26

My One

there could be fifty thousand people watching us 
and i’d still only have eyes on you. 
there could be an eclipse above us, but my attention 
would be on you. 
there could be galaxies and oceans and they could tell me all their secrets but i’d still only want to know yours. 
there could be eight billion people surrounding my soul, 
but the only one i’d smile for would be you, my love. 
i could be dying but id still laugh for you, my dear. 
i could starve in a desert and still be home for tea time, my darling. 
i could never be away from you.
that is my promise, my One. 
Oct 17


 my hands tap
tap tap
on my page
and I can feel my aphantasia  
clicking like a clock,
my eyes focused,
then unfocused.
Like a camera lens trying to see in the dark.  
and my mind is tap tap tapping
on my skull and spine telling me to move
but my numbed joints scream in protest
so I stay down.  
‘Coward!’  my brain tells me.
Time speeds up and then slows,
my ears popping with the change.
There’s a quiet ringing in my head but it still drowns out the noise around me.  
every nerve in my body is tense and taught and tipped to the very top of their threshold.  
my body feels like a harp;
Like it could make music at the hands of a master.
I can’t feel my self imploding
but I know it’s happening
and I have a cure but my hands are tied
and to be honest
I would rather die then
fall to the feet
of some invisible deity

Oct 15

who could

Oct 15

i hate you

it was about three days ago, when i first noticed it. 
like a slight change in the weather or 
like when someone taps you on your shoulder and then runs away. 

it was subtle, the way i realized i hated you. 

the way way i hated your square features and grey eyes. 

I remember it it well because i was just thinking about 
how much i love you, when it hit me. I was smiling to myself about you 
when i realized how much i hate you. 

and what ive realized is it is not the kind of hate 
that you see in a movie, where they hate you because they love you. 
i just hate you. 
i hate you for telling me i’m less than
i hate you for breathing and i hate you for 
hating yourself and 
i hate your dumb smile and i hate your laugh and 

you hate you,

Oct 11

i fell in love with your hair

i fell in love with your hair, 

the way it smelled on Sunday morning,

just before your coffee and right after your shower. 

But now i realize that it wasn’t you I loved, 

at least not at the end. 

At the end, i fell in love with your shampoo, and the memories the smell held. 

But just not....

Sep 21

i am

when I told you,
my heart stopped.
my hands shook
as my phone screen
illuminated my face. 
i felt like a coward,
for not looking you in
the eye,
for not telling you in person
but i couldn’t stand 
the thought of disappointing 
you; of taking away your 
daughter— turning her
into a taboo. but that 
taboo as i now know 
is who i am. and i have 
found a kingdom of
people just like me. 
a kingdom of taboos. 
where pride is the king,
and love is the queen. 
Sep 20

not even a syzygy

it is her i reside 
the other side,
the in between,
the veiled,

any name doesn’t strike me as 
relevant because words do 
not exsist here. 
they are invisible ink on a 
canvas made of air. 
the last time i heard a voice was
one saying goodbye. 
there is no noise here, 
only the kind on the TV; 
black and white dots that float and 
caress your toes until they tingle. 
only the mindless noise. 
there is no one here. 
it’s just me and my imagination
and the occasional memory,
forced to relive 
and relive 
and relive 
every moment i breathed, 
every action i completed and
every step i took.
even the one 
off the ledge. 
if i could take that step back,
i would. no thinking. no guilt. 
not even a syzygy could stop me then. 
Sep 17


their eyes are like almonds
their breath like release,
and their dreams a little messy
like an unmade bed
but beautiful like a sunrise. 
their fingers moving fast across the globe,
caressing every word in the dictionary.
giving new meaning. 
beautiful in their solace. 
Sep 16

I Am Not

the lake makes a soft noise,
like one of a non-committal alarm,
not quite loud enough to stir me from 
or from my nightmares. 
the water somehow strikes me as lonely. 
like every time a wave touches the feet of a child
on it’s beach—
it is trying to make a friend. 
and what they doesn’t understand is 

i am not a hero,

i don’t rescue cats from trees,

or chase after the bad guys. 

i am not a hero. 

i am not optimistic

or hopeful,

i don’t pray for tomorrow to be better

or for the world to change. 

i am not optimistic. 

I am not a poet. 

i don’t write looping words 

on a page

or rhyme every line,

i don’t scrawl out letters 

to save the minds of those 

who stumble across my 


i am not a poet.
Sep 14

january 28th 2004

her hands are like tree branches. 
“piano hands” — 
she calls them. 
i find myself wishing, 
i too had them.
her hair flows down her neck,
then swoops like a wave, resting in 
the dips of her shoulder blades. 
her eyes aren’t dark,
but don’t shine either. 
not like a fairytale maiden. 
they hold something unknown,
something uncharted. 
like she knows when
the world will end. 
Her lips are rosey red and 
perched in a little smile,
tugged to the left. 
her laugh is summer and 
I am june. 
But this is not a love poem.
Not one meant to serenade her,
because i await—
just as anxiously as she does,
for when someone will find her 
piano hands,
swooped hair,
learned eyes,
strawberry lips 
and sunny laugh—
and they decide to keep us forever. 
(we are a package deal, of course.)