Afterlife (9:00 PM)

She was a stunning one, wasn’t she?

Her skin just dripped of glory.

Behind her steps she left a trail of

many men adoring.

Her milky hands were as

fragile as tears,

she handled them like lace.

Her smile was radiant,

her laugh was contagious,

a sound that can’t be replaced.

But she kept to herself,

that graceful girl,

the lady who died in white.

In life she possessed such

unmatched beauty

even death to her is kind.

Bubble and Whir (8:00 PM)

In the bubble and whir of white noise around us

I heard your voice speaking to me.

The rest of the world fell silent.

I heard your voice and the percussive beat of

our two hearts.

The whole world softened and fell away to

make room for the miracle happening between us.

Calm (6:00 PM)

It intrigues me how in this world filled

with chaos and christs nothing

can soothe me like you.

No massage or therapy can calm me

like the affliction of your touch.

Your smile and kiss is

all I need to pull me from

my cloud of questions, lost keys

and too many teeth gnashing

and demanding at once.

You ground me in a place where

others’ lives don’t rely on my

punctuality or presence.

When the violence of society is over

I retreat to you,

Where questions can go unanswered

and yours is all I need to be.

Boxes (5:00 PM)

Pretty little boxes

all lined up in a row.

One by one aligned themselves

but knowing not what for.


With their colorful labels

placed neatly to display

what might come to fill them

some hopeful little day.


‘Til then they’ll sit politely

lids lying open in wait

for something to fill the dark

some pretty little day.

Finality (4:00 PM)

The ear piercing silence of having

said too much hangs over our heads.

That last word fell, dragging with it

a love that we placed too high on a pedestal.


I tap my nails in a vain attempt

to drown it out.


We submit to quiet shame and

wonder when it got this bad.


You sigh and turn on SportsCenter.

I flip thru an outdated Rolling Stone.


I watch helplessly as the remains of our love

slip like shadows thru my fingers.

Dark as misery.

Incomprehensible as air.

Untitled (3:00 PM)

I am found breathless,  bound

in the parenthesis of your kiss.

Unknown to my undoing, you

hold my heart, enclosed in your fist.


Gentle sighs deplete the quiet,

minutes tick away unheard.

The world is twirling on its axis

yet here its ceased to turn.


(A million stars will dance tonight

because you are in the world.)


A flame of hand, a shock of lips

all my secrets you’re unfolding.

But safe within this secret bliss

your heart I’m sweetly holding.


(Oblige the sun and bless the moon

a song of secret is her tune.)

Santa Anas (2:00 PM)

I am your wildfire.

Your burning Santa Anas.

With heat that makes men come undone

Strong enough to melt the sun.

(His surface drips like wax.)

Uncontrollable at best.

Spontaneous Combustion.

Ashes on my breath.

Keep your distance, love,

or be burned to your death.

(Love is a fairy tale made up in your head.)

Locust Girl (1:00 PM)

Locust girl won’t talk.

She creeps beneath grass and damp

soil to parallel play with worms.

She is of no consequence.

Here, she is only mineral to dirt.


Locust girl can almost feel the sun.

Deeper she burrows into her earthen den.

If sun can find her so can he,

smiling sickly as he pries away her sweet pulp.


He will rip off her wings, fry them

up with a sprinkle of salt.

He will dine on a salad of her legs,

procure a pudding of her soft belly.


Finished, he curses her with sour breath,

tosses her masticated body back

into the muddied tomb.

She, the loveless leper.

Slut of the grave.


Locust girl acquaints herself with worms.

Turns stiffened legs up to a liberated sun.

On her back, belly exposed, wings

folded beneath her.


She waits in silence for

the strength to fly and

abandon her defiled shell

in the grave.

Wife of Judas (12:00 PM)

You are Damned

Calcuable Man.

A sack of sacrifice

strapped to your shoulders.

A handful of silver,

a kiss on Christ’s cheek.

Romans on the road and

you taking us down with you.


Divine in your deception you

smirk at your Holy plan.

Secrets between the two of you

to bless us with salvation.


Yet I, I am left with your seed

and a mouthful of soot.

Apologies, apologies, apologies,

regret to fill our bellies.


No water or wine.

No bread, no fish.

No absolution from

your sacred sin.


I am a shadow of your House.

Dirty floor, dirty feet.

A rabid wolf at the threshold

snapping at my bones.


Thirty pieces of silver,

stars in my darkened sky.

Flung at the boots of soldiers

marching you to your demise.


Oh Precious Martyr, I your Misses.

Wherefore lies the fault in your foolishness?

Did you find eternal life at the

end of that rope in the Yew tree?