disclaimer: i don’t write poetry



The easel is my sailing mast

My canvas is the sail

My long brush is the harpoon

I’m praying for the whale


The Story

There are days

I wish I’d never met you,

never taste the metal of your words,

the bitter tang of your mood.

There are days

I want to cut off my hand,

knowing that I cannot let go,

yet finding no other way

to rid myself of the ache.

There are days

when words typed 
on a blank screen seem

to bridge

the massive space between us.

There are days

when it feels

like I’m 
pushing every letter

the pores in my skin

to get to you.

There are days

I would give all I have

to find out how this story ends,

because this

is the one

I’m not writing.


amateur experiment with villanelle sonnet structure: untitled


a long walk home, another day gone by

my shoulders hunched and joy still far away

one more week down at Johnson Junior High

a dark form on the pavement caught my eye

her shining feathers spread in disarray

upon the burning pavement of July

a bird with broken wings looked to the sky

and gave a warbling chirp that seemed to say

she longed to spread those broken wings and fly

her breast rose and fell with each belabored sigh

and i, afraid to hurt her, kept away

tried again to walk home, but couldn’t pass her by

I sat curbside beside her, sad and shy

and finally her face did turn my way

her breathing slowed, light fading from her eye

she stilled and with a soft and final cry

she died, a common European jay

i looked again toward the sun and bright, blue sky

and heard in ringing silence her goodbye


The Doctor

Mother is proud

Eight years later,

a hundred thousand dollars invested in

stents and drugs and scalpels.


Long nights working the assembly line for her for

Long weekends at the country club for me.


Another mother,

face pressed hard against the glass.

Her daughter,

the operating table,

hand so small— like a

dime in my palm.




third drink, maybe fourth

twentieth cigarette I’m grinding out with

nervous fingers

thirty minutes since

you called and told me where to

meet you

second dress I tried on

five inch heels pinching my feet

keeping me aware of