you take me to the community table where I like watching all the old men socialize with one another but today my eyes translated their lives into death that one, with the nicotine stained beard, he’ll stumble into the heart attack named widow-maker and that young man, with the black pencil on his waterline, an […]
Look to the Living, Disregard the Dead
it happened again last night, heard him in my dreams again wakefulness greeted me with the memory of his vacant eyes, fixed upon the ceiling above and I’m studying the star-shaped tattoo on his chest, chanting his name over and over in my head again sorry I haven’t been home in a couple days, it’s […]
seasonal memories
Yesterday, we brought a man back from the dead. What follows is always a collection of poetry.
Under the Influence
I could use some chicken noodle soup right now, but this is the best I can do without a stove.
Portrait of a Man
I like to think of this flash fiction as the acoustic version to a similar story unfolding in my head.
September Rain
I’m feeling melodramatic.
savings account
I keep the moments coins in a piggy bank but I love the rain, so I’ll save them for sunny days when the shadows and trees all look the same and I’m trudging uphill to get to my next class, hours drifting past like sluggish clouds his smiles are pennies—the heads-up kind the ones he […]
Nineteen
I became aware of a pain / festering somewhere within me / he felt my body shiver / squeezed me against his heartbeat / until I fell back asleep / dreamed of all the bugs / exploding guts on car windshields / short lived and irrelevant / where do they go after that high-impact? / […]
“one of our own,” he said over and over
Because I love her hands clasped, compressions on his chest counting to thirty under my breath as my partner cut through the fabric of his buttoned shirt thirteen year old told me last week “I want to die every single day!” and I thought immediately, I want to die every other day life is […]
Because I Could Not Explain Grief In Symbols
Yesterday was three years ago, passing broken bodies of deer on the sides of every road. Their white bellies, slender, bent necks. I thought of her. Every black-eyed doe was the crack of her forehead on the steering wheel. Every dun-colored body was the bruises they say marked her face, kisses from impact. Passing their […]
Just Thoughts 