I have taken 
to my position, 
between a rock 
and a hard place, 
mostly from an understanding 
that the roadways 
were too occupied, 
the river doesn’t run north, 
and I thought I was a rugged 
mountain climber. 

Any and all mail
can be wedged
in between
said location. 


Clothes as comfort,
take it off.

reveal your skin,
then take it off.

Stretch your muscles,
take them off.

Rub your bones,
please take it off.

Let me grip your organs and commit passion to them –
love making to your innards.


No time does pass before you speak,
“I have to get going, try to get yourself together.”

You leave.




Met me off the coast 
of her heirloom; 

thinly sliced moons 
showing like a cascade; 

journeying for miles 
in shallow drinks; 

balancing our days 
into night, 
our wrongs 
with our rights.

We had a wit
to one another
and the rest was
a day’s length of history;

our bodies
like glass,
caught light. 



Wicker baskets
filled with aged potpourri
faint in smell 
and no longer swift, 
cloaked in greyed dust
from fan blades
calling to nose-irritating cotton candy
created in circles above;
the baskets with loosening skeleton,
a misshaped oval,
and aged home decoration
from a decade prior
compass the room
in different spots, 
regardless of the children’s absence 
or father passed, 
vacation, or home-time holidays; 
somehow the wicker basket 
remains steady as a rock,
weighing down the interior. 


Settle, settle down my soul.
I’m burning unprocessed and charred as coal.
Grievous skies rain down the fires,
but I burn, nonetheless, my soul is tired.

Trickling wax moves across my back,
I am but half of myself.

Tinged with lemon, I am a freshness unknown.
Think of the cleansing nature on my bones.

Fizzled flesh still bubbles dry.
This all happened quickly under that night’s sky.



What hills have eyes 
with visions 
darker than reality? 

It sees traveler’s retroactively 
firing flares of incandescent 
flair, never 
possessing the souls 
that slumber 
in shallow tombs 
for a native punch 
through the lens. 

They are weak, 
the ones that eat 
off the land 
and never cultivated 
crops of civilized junction.