#12 Steam

Golden Shovel with line from Rudy Francisco, “Honest Poem”   my concern is always with the explosion inside that I’m trying to hold in because it feels so rude to let it out, but still I feel the toxic impact within my body and I…

#11 So. Done.

i am i am so i am so over it i am so over it that i am so over it that i don’t even know what it was i am so over it that i cycled back around and now i am under it…

#10 Insecurity

Did I lock the car? is there someplace I should be right now? A corner of circumstance? A room of requirements? Was there a checklist I left empty? A book of checklists, left unchecked? Is anyone even as together as they seem on Instagram? My…

#8 Nonet for Babka

Babka prances, carrying a box proud to have captured cardboard prey the evisceration brief loud ripping and chewing so satisfying yet so simple and bloodless hunter quenched

#7 Cinque Terre: Manorola to Vernazza

We ascend the switchback road above the town moving away from the church square towards the cerulean ceiling of the world   Tiny staircases lead to a path and the path into an ancient vineyard grapevines trained in neat rows on steep terraces We wind…

#6 Choreo (Fibonacci poem)

Turn Hop Contract Two steps right Hips and knees circle Scoop those arms to capture the space Hold that ball and let it fill out Invisible prize Let it go… Deep breath Touch Hold  

#5 No monochrome chromaticity poem

They say a monochrome room is simple and relaxing full as it is of   emptiness The stillness sends bees into my brain and my bees need someplace fertile to land some flowers to spark their work My no monochrome room needs a garden within…

#3 Collaborate

Prompt: use last line of a book you have read Book: The Anti-Racist Writing Workshop by Felicia Rose Chavez Maybe we can build this thing together This thing to hold us together To hold space for our togetherness As we collaborate to create As we…

Ode to the harvest

Harvest grain glows burnished bronze, in the sun’s warm glow The tall proud stalks, crowned and tasselled bow to the passing wind. The wayward wind ruffles their heads and gently passes on. I hear the rustling of gossipy leaves, as they draw near one another,…

Poem IX: Palettes and Paintings

The colour of modesty is rouge. It is the shade of the clouds as it witnesses the consummation of two skies; The colour of your thoughts on my skin; Blossoming roses when I sigh your remembrance to the winds; my palms pressed in prayers for…

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