6- out your window

it only took two gray winters to break her heart.

then it quickly became clear that sunshine was medicine

and the windows the fastest way to inject it into eager veins


what i see looking out now: the usual.

cars, trees so lush i stopped noticing the green, peeling rooftops

hollywood sign: the perfect backdrop to shouting neighbors


but it could be forest or wasteland; what matters now is what comes in

ah!- to live in a glass house regardless of stones

waking up each day to warm and undeniable possibility

standing right in the very center and feeling it stream in

from every direction imaginable, letting it. 


5- golden shovel [from thom gunn’s “jamesian”]

you know the difference between there, they’re and their

and that’s the kind of partner i want in my relationship.

since our first meeting my days have still consisted

of the same old, but its always better with you added in

and my heart has expanded to contain the nights we spend discussing

every but and how, each want and wish and every single if

and speaking of hearts: it

is something different now. before, it simply existed.


4- lune

i often wonder 

if they have become friends,

the two men.


one begs patiently

while the other sells fruit

–sharing road peacefully.


drivers pass by

contemplate which to give to

or ignore both


i like imagining

that during long hot days

trades are made


stories for mangoes

both come free of charge

kinship budding, almost. 


2- mythology (norse)

Freya wakes up wet from dreams of sex and death. 

The right hand clenched in a fist, the left palm open to the world

Her right foot with the dead, left among the living. 

Freya sighs. 

Her hair is matted with sleep,

In the mirror her right eye glints murkily- it is black, almost all pupil. 

It suggests the sinister

Her left eye shines a pale green as usual, clear and bright and welling up with glossy hope. 

Morning: birth. Bless babies. Kiss bellies. Soothe. Song. Soft mind, green eyes. 

Afternoon: death, again. Black rain. Back in the field where each choice is agony. Ash darkening everything, darkening Freya. 

Eat, sleep, repeat. 

Freya has started to lose track: limbs and breath and cries and sweat, pleasure and pain- it’s all started to look and feel the same. 

The dream still alive in her body, Freya begins to dress

There is one glorious moment in midday where no ones needs anything from Freya

Dead and living are both content and she may rest

Savouring the in between

This is what Freya lives for, what she looks forward to as she consumes her breakfast

Masticating and devouring what she needs to face today. And then tomorrow. And the next day and the next. And so on. 

This, dear Freya, is yours for eternity. 


1- quote from the oracle

what does getting better mean? 

how long, and if, what?


today here i standing on the threshold of an uncertain new year

marking a new beginning or a joke i should have seen coming, today.

today; a year since.


my toes curl over the edge as exhilaration and fear dance in my empty stomach

it occurs to me that it’s been happening steadily, the if and what.

[this doesn’t have to mean that something was wrong before],

i’ve been getting better, and better all along




year 2

i’m excited and a little nervous to start napowrimo, round 2. and very curious to see how my poems– and the content that currently informs them– has shifted. here we go!