Sea Glass



Knob kneed and pale,
I glow
before the waves with toes painted green

like the world through a piece of sea glass, my vision hazed and

calm. Your thumb presses my fingers

like the tactile press of a keyboard's

steps towards the fully formed sentences

I can't quite seem to finish. The storm on the horizon

is electrifying. It drowns out my breath with each rumble

echoing over the waves and we know we should leave,

move to safety,

but the water is the most intense

shade of you.





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"Arange Chicken"

She always said orange with an “a”
back then. I loved her
clipped bursts of speech like the twitch of clipped wings.   
She sat beside me and I drifted
then dove until my ears popped
and sulfur filled my nose and
the pressure in my lungs left me
With her nails in my back
my eyes were floating to the ceiling   
on her lingering laps
through gently discarded ambitions. The world became
her perception and my reality
and I could do nothing
but wring my hands and offer
my ego on the plate next to her
arange chicken because
she let me run my thumb across
the bones in her shoulder blades. They threatened to break
the skin that’s softer than down   
and I wondered
do you miss the sky?

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Monet’s Parasol Beauty


She was a woman built in technicolor:

a vibrant Monet's parasol beauty in a miniskirt with

indecencies etched into her eyelids

and the promise of
galaxies mapped out on her lips.



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The Couch



There is a couch

            In a room.

            In a house.

            On a street.

            In a city.

            In a state.

            In a country.

That in this moment,

as I straddle you,

is my whole world.



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The Sound of the Seagulls Above the Wind



Seagulls voiced their need

for the crisp winds of early spring to

warm into air worth their spread wings and

readiness to fly. We stood

with the sand stinging the backs of our claves

and our hair in our faces

deciding if it was worth daring

to dip our toes in the waves.

The view from the shore was tremendous. Still,

all oceans criticize the scope of their onlookers and

I was no different, casting sidelong glances

over the foam collecting at its edges like great scars

left from when the surf and land met,

my skin recoiling against the sea spray.

But you –

you spread out your arms like an egret spreads its wings and

I swear I saw you fly. 

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There was no shot glass for my vodka when
I made it to the crossroads only to find it crowded.
Weathered anxieties stitched between my eyebrows
and it felt only right to hang them out to dry with today’s laundry;

the sun bleaching them as strongly as it reddens your skin.
My love, 
you have no clue how hard it was not to touch you. 

So I lean against the only bare wall in the room
with my fingers twitching to hold something,

but all the packs of cigarettes were empty 
and there was no castle of beer cans in the hall. 
If I raised my head I can see your

thin figure standing over the stove top

water to boil as the T.V. screen screamed like our parents did: 
You will burn in Hell for your sins! 

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Experimenting With Space




I loved her once

didn’t I                      fall into her arms

instead of to the floor          didn’t I

forsake bruised limbs for hands grasped to my shoulders


she always loved the blurred black

and blue of worlds pulsing under the skin of her forearms

of her hips and throat and

so she painted herself          hung

on the wall

next to the antique mirror          I stood

back         then

I only had her reflection.




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Dripping in Gold


I took her hand

and poured gold in her veins.

There was nothing more I could do.



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I placed her head in my hands
and laced my fingers through the patchwork of her silence.
Clocks can't hold you, Love,
but they’ll eavesdrop
and try to slip a limit on moments.

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