Jan. × ’19

If carries so much on its shoulders
If understands the pluperfect
although I do not

Does if wish it knew the answers
or does it feel open to possibility?

When it comes to loving
if is a reminder of threat
working against yes

And yet if itself
is an always
a constant
a possibility
a promise
a continuance

Stay in this moment
and if becomes yes

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Jan. × ’19

How many truths do you hold?
Is there one way you know it goes?
Or are there a few versions discussed
Inside more than anyone’s eyes
more than light can touch

If you took a photo of me
would you see more than
color than contrast?

Is there more?
What more do I want?

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Jan. × ’19

It has not fully dawned on me
that you will become
a full grown person

Strange enough that you are here
creature so capable
of creating so much

What will I feel
one day when I think I know you
better than anyone before
present from the moment you began
and yet so many daydreams away

We are all meanderers
on different journeys
no straight lines from event to event
elusive trace of fourth dimension footprints evade

And what am I?
A witness? A guide?
I can only imagine
like you
We are our imaginings
imagining each other
and ourselves

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Jan. × ’19

You want to be used
How depressing
to spend time
waiting to burn

Perhaps though you think
you want to alight!

Maybe you do not believe in destiny
or have forgotten you are dead

We should be so lucky
to live to be old trees
chopped down
witnessing warmth

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FIRST NIGHT HOME – After “Secret spring released“ Claude McKay

Jan. × ’19

When you cry
I cannot help but smile
knowing we will figure this out

That sounds condescending
but I know this (this being you)
is more complicated than that (that being life)

Yet suddenly everything is so simple

How can it be that you just knew
how to move out of my womb
descend through
travel towards by breast
and that my body
knew you too

I listen for your breathing
I cannot sleep
until you settle

This will be a forever condition

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Dec. × ’18

In every window
is the same story

In every window
is a different story

In every window
is the same story
that thinks it’s different

In every window
is a different story
that thinks it’s the same

Sometimes the window explodes
Is this just new light that’s let in?

Are destruction and creation the same?
Is something new as painful as something old?

Only so much can fit
unless you are comfortable in flames

This is why we learn to let go

If we were to sit
on a picnic blanket
hidden in the reeds
where once I made love
to a long lost lust
Would the sun still reflect
on each reed the same
sparkling eyes
bodies made fierce
by confidence to bare and be
because bounty because summer

Illuminating sun
make us dance and blend
the surfaces of one another

In this quilt
if my border is not on yours

Sun help me get there

Is a flying carpet
simply a staircase?
A step we choose to take
or not

Beyond the perimeter of our eyes
the turn of our heads
The way to beyond
just a step away

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Nov. × ’18

I think about
naming you

Will you be more of a Vivian
full of life exuding rapture to all ends?
Or will you be Daisy
open to all, bright and bringing light
all the day long?
Or will you be Hannah
which your dad was supposed to be named
had he been a girl
or his brother or other brother
who never were
and now there’s you
little girl

Or shall we call you Celeste
for the stars in the sky
all of the hopes vaulted high?
Or will you be Cecelia
the goddess of music
room to be any medly you choose?
Or simply Lyric
forget allusions
my love of words
and your father’s of tune

He says
Shouldn’t we wait until she’s born to decide?
As if you’ll pop out fully formed
with opinions and style

I smile
still so much to us

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Nov. × ’18

I see your tiny
feet as if you have
kicked back in a chair
laughing so hard
you somersault

Is this how
imagination begins?

I can only hope
you will spin like this
head over toes

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Oct. × ’18

Oh spoon, why
do you make me want
to be fed by you?

Water glass
you silly fool
I will absorb all of you

Come, slip, slide
like a cold ember
in my throat

Let me be
nothing but
the way I feel

you wait
so patiently

Is it worth it
again and again?

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Oct. × ’18

What lives
just beneath
the surface

Is there even surface?
Or are we all a part

Surfaces rarely go untouched
dive in they beckon
send a ripple

We are all in motion
do not give up

You produce
a rabbit


and still
I am happily surprised

If we are all a part
what then
is clandestine?

Hands held
beneath your drapes

Is all lust just
what we dream
not what we must?

And when it is over
and you emerge from the wash
folded creased
stuck on the shelf

Encourage still the go beyonds
the exuberance the wantonness the now
the worry about it later
the permission to resound

You are not for spills
you are hydration

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