Thursday, March 28, 2013


It's hard to admit you're broken

When you never quite knew if you were complete.

Tuesday, March 26, 2013

swallowed the sun

Long Island Sound swallowed the sun eyes first

The sky turning an eerie blue

holding it's breath,

counting it's fingers

one by one.


The water was green from years of tin-cans,

Bathing in the sun-drenched water,

using the reflection to tan

as the waves weathered their wrinkles away.


I was thirteen when I saw the sun give up.

I found that broken coke bottle

smooth, translucent, a sage green.


It threw itself back into the ocean.

I didn't throw it.


It wanted to be back with the wedding rings,

and sun glasses,

and mermaid barbie-dolls


I didn't throw it.


It wanted to be back under The Sound,

Where only the eyes of the Sun could see.

Tuesday, March 12, 2013

Weight of the Moon

She ran down to the stream,

her hands covered in rose petals

her veins exploding against her too-thin-skin

luminescent under the reflection of the

pooling coolness.

The moon was talking now--

it's poetry stuck to her bones,

made her heavy and full

thrusted into her like newborn titalwaves

only easing to feel her body weaken

at the thought.

Friday, March 8, 2013

Pregnant Sun

The Sun was pregnant with yesterday's uncertainties

A Bastard child, unfit for today and every tomorrow.


I was eager like her--

Glowing, Full, and ready to burst

A sprouted seed in fertile soil

A new beginning, I was her child.


Each day the longest yet,

I stirred myself deeper, spreading closer still

A bulb, unlit yet bright as Hell.

Tuesday, March 5, 2013


I buried myself in her belly

bulbous and verbose with purr

the smell of pure soft white

overwhelmed by warmth


she spoke to me in silence

pure body language lounging

i felt her there, breathing in rhythm

mmm hssh mmm hssh mmm hssh mmm hssh

soft and punctual



and oh-so-alive.