it’s a little funny how the hurts hurt us a secret told only to those who are ready to hurt us the most those ready to learn… Read more “My Hour”
A local color—imagine this color on your lips. Now, see the differences in us, and see through the many specks darkly, if you wish, go deeper into… Read more “Getting Hit On”
It is always more difficult to live the poetry than to write it. I’m not found sitting in darkness. I believe in his or her own beautiful… Read more “I am only a little star.”
Softly, I laugh to myself, thinking of infinity, the empty room in each of us. We were in love once, why couldn’t we stay that way?
A writer wonders: What is a great lover? My best answer: It takes a lot of loneliness to grow a great lover.
I ran into an issue sending this text to you. Did I think you were someone else? Yes, I think I did, for just a moment. I… Read more “Wrong Number”
her nose, it summed us up, and the garden she built, cupped, and patted in the backyard. washing her hands with the soil, she inhaled. “what do… Read more “Our Roots”
To dream that you have committed this act, afflicted this on a loved one, is, in many recorded cases, a shitty thing to have done. The onset… Read more “The Meaning of Your Dreams, According to Franklin D. Martini: Adultery”
for Bob In this poem, you… Read more “Always Faithful”
the vines of ten ye—well, I won’t put an age on it it’s really set in, though, the flora, take my word for it since that memory… Read more “my memory of it has grown over itself”