a sonnet
This love is not a cage. She holds her hand
aloft and all the universe, aglow,
unveils itself, a dormant rose from sand
begins to blossom, flawless. Oh, you know
I couldn’t trust my heart. It wore me down
with promises, so crass and bittersweet
I couldn’t trust my lips or tongue–and now
I echo back so…
a poem
“the only way out of the labyrinth of suffering
is to forgive.” — john green, looking for alaska
i/
i have crawled
on hands and knees
in the long darkness
shards of glass
embedded in concrete
make for pretty light
(when the light comes)
but leave a number
of jagged wounds…
a sonnet
it’s not enough to pray for light to break
through leaden windows dark with dirt and grief,
nor can we ask the universe to fake
some light until we muster the belief
we should have always had. the grace of stars
is not diminished by the tired eyes
of humankind who see in skinny bars,
ignoring the…
A Poem
after Kristin Dwyer’s “Some Mistakes Were Made”
a year is not a long time,
it passes as a prayer;
when they deign to carry on
they come even faster, swear.
a year is not a long time
to heal the wounds we slit
into our calloused hides,
our skin can barely knit…
The Wandering Poet
a poem
for s.f.
Our everything will break. That’s how it goes
in circles ever on–but we rebuild
because it’s true that no one ever knows
when all the grief will shatter. We’ll be filled
with music sweeter than a waterfall
and hope that doesn’t wither from our touch.
Then we will cease to lose our every all
and…
