Tuesday, October 8, 2019


 You learn to live
 with sterile dreams;
 bucolic landscapes
 where you'd hardly notice
 the silence unless you'd
 expected birds and cows.

 You learn there's always
 someone more damaged;
 so many pastorals
 in search of a shepherd.

 You learn that mostly
 you're ok; so many of us
 survive without hope.

 There's perspective
 in every loss; every loss
 (especially the one
 you don't yet feel)
 is unbearable.

Monday, September 16, 2019

Death in all Families

 When my father died,
 I hid.

 I had nothing to say,
 nothing to add
 to his brutal labor of dying.

 When grief finally came,
 she gave me unanswerable questions.
 She had me worry
 about the things he'd left me.

 The things I'd never give back.

 And now I wonder,
 where do you go
 when the world dies?
 Where do you leave your questions?
 What do you do with your grief?

Wednesday, June 5, 2019

going to brabant

 across the borderless country
 a long night exhales
 her secrets

 between the giggles and beers
 i can almost
 look at you now
 as someone else
 might look at you

 who knows nothing
 but your worst injury
 can almost see myself
 as someone else
 might see me

 who knows nothing
 but my worst injury
 and how it hasn't
 killed me yet

 was almost going to ask
 for your pitiful heart
 one miserable chord
 to redeem both of us

 already heard
 the drab dawn
 calling me back
 choked on the question
 almost let my head
 rest there
 on your shoulder

Monday, February 25, 2019

going to twente

 the train was three years late
 and still it only took a minute
 to fall back into step with you
 and less than an hour
 to inspect old injuries
 and half a wednesday
 to let you take away
 this grudge as if you'd
 helped me out of my coat

Tuesday, January 22, 2019


 in a fish tank without corners
 rub up against
 any available surface
 relief no release

 what this body could do
 carried by the water
 in an ocean without fish nets

Thursday, January 17, 2019

going to brighton center (dendrochronology)

 twice you held my hand
 just so reached
 around the front seat
 back rest of his car

 as i got out

 traced six years
 with the tip of your thumb
 our growth rings
 never aligned

Tuesday, December 18, 2018


 you feel the muscles
 that didn't tear
 and the bones
 that didn't break
 and the torn cuticles

 you lift yourself up
 it hurts it hurts
 and as the cuticles grow back
 so does the pain
 but you'll walk

 and you won't bleed
 to death and this desire
 to switch yourself off
 won't last this time
 and you'll be a tardigrade
 thawing surviving

Friday, December 7, 2018

going back to hamburg

 old scars from when
 they took portions of the
 unspeakable couldn't they have
 taken all of it and my appetite
 so i wouldn't keep on
 running into scalpels and walls

 new scars from when
 my collarbone and my eye
 and my thigh and my heart
 broke and i lay on the pavement
 in a foreign city and for once
 couldn't walk off the pain

 bad scars from when
 the body gets fixed up
 for a hostile world
 good scars from when
 the body crashes
 on a gentler world