Poetry · Writing

where did you come from

the golden x on the map

was your address

across unnamed land

a festival featuring a panda as a king

around the parade featuring that same panda

i’ll bring you flowers and a stuffed bear

yes, the panda from the festival

and will come back for cotton candy

Poetry · Writing

fun house

bringing the table to dinner

the house was easy to find like they said,

upside down with a boston terrier outside-

the laughing medallion given at the door

a smile for us and a laugh for all, she said

the party had purple gas crawling the floor

we are all clowns

laughing at the moon like a pack-

musical chairs with masks

spin the bottle with acid

eyes flipped inside out

dancing to bulletproof

Poetry · Writing

after it all

i watched the way you moved

studying for the exam

no extensions or sick days

show up and shut up

i can’t fail:

in the morning mirrors will be broken

glasses will be shattered

my reflection will carry my sorrow

in baskets with ribbons

and the bell is my nightmare

Poetry · Writing

fear of the planet

flying and you are the wings

the ground is the past

we’re above that now

sinking ships we’re all afloat now

focused on me and now i’m in lift off

two seats and rain checks cashed in

a lime or two and soft skin

i see your moves and the way you spin

girl i wonder where you have been

when i was on the ground

flapping my wings like an idiot

just wanting to leave the ground

Poetry · Writing


it’s what home smells like

the aroma carries my clothes in my place

like a soft hand across my cheek


a memory shaped in a circle


a reminder that you were here,

but when the scent fades

i crave you

a little taste to carry me for the week and the next

to be closer to home

found on the tip of your lips

the palm of your hands around my waist

leaving your lavender imprint on my chest

burning deep enough

so home is always with me

Poetry · Writing

two times

i want it more than you

so keep my name out of your mouth

i don’t have the ego for this era

and it’s on the low

you can read my name from your couch

you’ll go to the internet and vouch

that your time was stolen

that i never punched out

this wasn’t your shift

and this isn’t overtime

i’ve been here putting in two times

working two times as hard

putting in two times the effort

and you’ll complain two times as much

but i never learned your name

but you know my story

Poetry · Writing

thirty and counting

i worry that i’ve wrote it before

said it before

and the words lose meaning

like white out to a dictionary

i mutter white noise

it’s not that this was my goal

or i over say these words

i don’t want you to question or forget

i don’t believe in ten seconds you’ll forget

it’s the eleventh i want to be remembered

and after the twelfth i’ll be there to hold you

thirty i’ll build you a fort that we can live in

a map will be in your email in the morning

Poetry · Writing

sitting on a borrowed porch

on a porch

not my porch, a quiet family owns this porch

they go away on the weekends

i like to imagine they have a country house so their kids can play-

i feel apart of it when i sit here

the tire swing

star-gazing past our bedtime

never going to sleep cold,

on the porch

i go to sleep tucked in with a kiss on the cheek

but like a dream it’ll end

in the morning they’ll return

and i’ll be gone