Friday, April 27, 2012


And my bones cannot bend any more.
There is no space left for them to break into.

I have exhausted all breathable air around them.

You will never find me here,
Huddled against this ancient bark,
For one,
You never came to this neighborhood.
For two,
You wouldn't be looking.

You aren't looking for me.

In fact,
I don't think you even have eyes anymore.

At least,
ones without that slick and mysterious glaze.
Like that of a slowly sputtering geyser:

A strange gelatin

Settling on top
Of what was once a pool of clear blue.

Saturday, April 21, 2012

Considering I pour so much of my creative writing energy into class assignments and there are some essays that I end up really enjoying to write, I wanted to create a space to share some of my recent favorites.  There is a new section under "My Offerings" named "Essays". Please enjoy!

Red Kitchen Nun

Why did you always say:
When I die, you’ll get all this jewelry

Why did you always say it so gaily?
Like it was something I was looking forward to.

As if the smashed bridge
The crusted-over chasm
Between you and I
Could at last be simply skipped over once
there were stones dangling from my earlobes and
Pearls dripping from my collarbone

As if the jewels blistering my knuckles
And the clasps safely buttoned over my breast could
Come to represent some real alliance between us

They replace the spirit you could never share
And are daily, eye-catching reminders of
What I have never known from you 

Wednesday, April 18, 2012

A Response to "Sonny's Blues" by James Baldwin

This is an unconventional essay, I admit. But I got bored with writing prose and wanted to switch it up for a particular assignment. This poem is a response to, or more like reflection of,  James Baldwin's Sonny's Blues. Here's a link to the short story - which I recommend reading, one to get a better understand of my response, and two, just because it's a great piece of work.

"And it started like this"

Tss tssss,
Tss tssss,
A little shimmy of snare
amongst the silence everywhere

Hovering above a midnight stage:
Tss tsss,
Tss tsss,
Lights! Lights!
Fights! Fights!
Dark, dark.

And it picked up, quick, like a Birdsong:
a little dah dah
dedah dah,
dah dah
dedah dah
Backbeats of
dummm dum
Dummm dum,
Dummm dum
dummm dum
composing themselves like fresh ice
in the backbones of the high-faced.

Lights! Lights!
A nostalgic wind up and down the chords
Brought the beat back
‘round and ‘round
‘round and ‘round
Into the chaotic drill and shrill of horns:
Bru bru bri bri,
Bruu bruu brii brii!
Du du da da du du da da!

Bbbrrruuu, bbrrruuu!
Vvrrii, vvrrii!

Shaggy snares still loping:
Familiar sounds that asked the audience questions
they heard before.
New sequences that jumbled their perception
of being.

Bang! Bang!
Crashed the drums
Thunder in between their wood and metals
A confusing spiral of horns and horse hooves
Strange ssssssserpentine rhythms stronger than themselves

Lights! Lights!
Dark. Dark.

Dark. Dark.
Dark. Dark.

Bum bum
Bum bum
Bum bum
Bum bum.

Dum dum
Dum dum
Dum dum
Dum dum.

And the sax saunters in
While the men meander
Through the darkness
Looking for that next note

Piercing the hearts with musical hope

And a lingering promise of
Salvation through his chocolate alto

Bbhhrrr brrr bhhhhrrrrrrrr,
Dur dur dur dur duh duuhhh durrr
Da da dahhh…

It wails
It whines
But never finds time
With his brother

It only smothers the harmony of the others

Rolls on the familiar tune once more
Reminders of Saturday nights
And Uncles
And Daddy’s

Mother’s with tears
And brothers with years of saddle-baggies

The sizzle of a cigarette
Meets not the Mercy, Mercy, Mercy of a clarinet
But the Chi Chi of a saxophone
And wave of brassy blues

A piano comes on live
Tinker-tankling the collective fears into oblivion
While the Moon watches
the Sun surpass his previous rises
Outlast his previous binges
And advance upon the people as if
He could light up their despair
 by simply
Pressing his Sunny digits
with sobering care.

Saturday, April 7, 2012

soft be it

I miss You
the wind
misses warm
golden fields
to rip through
Like the gently sloping
shaded purple gallinule
aches for an avalanche
the hurricane in my belly
the tornado in my head
lust for some island of peace
in which to be contained.

I have missed
To such depths.
Those seven mile deep oceans
appear as shallow as
the pale, salty rim
of a dried tear
flattened against
a dewy cheek –
when I
compare the leagues
to how deeply
one like you
has been
missed by
one like me.

Wednesday, April 4, 2012

The breeze whipped

The breeze whipped
With a sunlight tip
Bouncing on the back of that tire.

My armor slipped
With an (un)tight lip
Announcing true lack of that fire.

At the end of a blond curl:
The potential for a whirl
A shake and dance for this literary girl.
A reason to want to perspire.

Roll and ride up
With tree and (un)duck
New teeth to count and number.

Cruise and brake down
Ears open to a music-maker’s sound
A fondness I’d like to remember.

Sunday, April 1, 2012

i can

Try try try try try try try try tr

Close my eyes

Close my eyes

Close my eyes

Close my eyes

Close my yes

Your yes

Yes yes yes yes yes yes

Try try try try

Cry cry cry cry cry

Delete delete

Try try

Cry cry

Move mmove mmmove mmmmove

Close your eyes

Touch your heart

And breathe

All I can do is breathe.