Tuesday, November 12, 2013

muscle memory

i don't know how
to be me
without you.

my bones crackle
and my blood pulses
but i have no reason
to move
and anyway
i don't know how

will you think about me
when the first snow falls?

i'll imagine your face
outside my window,
begging me to be
your snow angel
and maybe
i won't feel so cold.

Saturday, January 12, 2013


the bump on your
left pointer
indicates to me
little more
than your attention
to detail

one might call it
but you see
more than anyone should

cigarette smoke,
while diaphanous,
leaves even
black-eyed susans
dirtier than before

Monday, January 7, 2013


she left the light on
she said
she'd watched him
in the dark
one too many times

there's only so much
eyes can adjust to

in the early morning
the only thing to be seen
is yourself