I feel the hopskip
from point 2 to point 4
a stroke out when walking home
how my foot hits the ground
but I can’t recall the step before.

I feel the short-circuit
the wattage of your smile flickers
just for a second
and I feel the pinch in my chest
the staple in my gut

the flicker of my world one black spot.

Inside that flicker, I am steam
stretching the entire length of this room
and charged with more heat than I can contain.

I run circles in the pressure, working my muscles
draining the hydration of my skin
stealing back my metallic hands
and wondering when the lightning will strike


Flaws for Thought

I do not mean to skulk
around the corners of your life
I do not mean to sulk
when your existence needs respite
I itch with fingers ready to scratch
to keep you in my life

I snark at sensitive issues
when instead I should tread light
I feel the strong embrace of care
But it sticks under the snipe.

I cut through the candor with knife and fork
I shovel my bullshit all night.
I swallow the caked-on words I can name
Their burn fuels a worry of flight.

This battle-ready runner waits
impatiently for response
ungraciously for convention
unfamiliar with the knowledge

that the dark ahead won’t bite.

Shoulder to Shoulder: a series of haiku

the storm may be fierce
the damage inflicted harsh
but I am here too

the boughs may be strong
the wind howling through our souls
but quiet comes next

the sun peeks outside
the beams play soft in your beard
wind ruffles your hair

bond long weathered now
like wood tendrils and roots
stronger together.


I’m shifting,
a coiled wire of writhing,
stretched like a slinky from edge to edge, waiting for you to walk through me
But you never do
You unhook me from each edge, recoil me
return me to my natural shape
and rest me on the countertop.

You don’t dump me in a box of odds and ends
or shove me in a drawer
You don’t coil me as tightly as I can go and try to thrust me back into the box
I came in

You set me next to the window, the light shines onto my pliable
The air slinks through my slats
I can feel you smiling from here.

I want this shift to change me, the nuance of nestled between understanding
and understatement
I want the change to shift me, from old to new
from carotid to cauterized
from matter to energy
to substance.


I hit the A instead of the F#
and I return to you.

Colorful keys caressed and life-breathing motion
of your eyes match the heart
of my practice.

I hit the A instead of the F#
and I return to you

Your acceptance lays upon the notes
Waiting patiently for me
Your hand outstretched to show your reach
Your warmth gravitating toward my weep

My wants and worries war within
But soon routine takes over.

I hit the A instead of the F#
and I return to you.

You shower me in surety
And my bones don’t look so scary anymore.