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In it Together
Will you go with me, circle no or yes. That was all the note said, signed Louie. It passed hand to hand beneath the tables in the back of sixth-grade English. I circled yes, sent it back, and waited...
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Gravedigger Poem Published on New Verse News
http://www.newversenews.com/ Did anyone else hear the interview with the undertaker on NPR last week? It was part of the inspiration for this poem of mine, published in New Verse News today. New Verse...
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Inc Lak Keig
A woman walks down the street. It does not matter her name, the color of her hair, her age, or how she votes. What matters is if you would go help her rise when she trips and twists her ankle. What...
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A Short History of Humanity
want wreak begin leak kill make swallow break climb wait chance create hold hope foil choke will feast lie cease argue shame try again
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And the Polar Bear Sat in the Shade
The sea lion swims in the glass-framed pond with his eyes closed. Lap after lap, he barely seems to move his great webbed feet, his smooth gray body flexes and curves. I try to imagine his eyes are...
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From The Dictionary of Obscure Sorrows
It turns out it’s just made up, the word sonder. The Dictionary of Obscure Sorrows says it’s a noun that means, “the realization that each random passerby is living a life as vivid and complex as your...
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We Do It Until We Don’t
We Do It Until We Don’t Sometimes it seems as if everyone in the world is lonely, all of us shuffling around, slumped by the weight of our singular lonelinesses. As if we all drank the same sad tea. As...
View ArticleThe Gate
It was Concourse B that altered me as I ran past old women in sarongs and young wailing children and men in red ties and couples holding hands. At first, all humanity felt like a hindrance, living...
View ArticleManifesto
And if we can’t save the world, and who says we can’t, then let us try anyway. Perhaps we have no superhuman powers— can’t see through buildings, can’t fly, can’t bend the bars of cages— but we...
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Wanting a Fractal Love
Eadem mutata resurgo Latin motto: Changed, I rise again Sometimes in spring I can still find the dried seeds of the mountain mahogany clinging to the ends of the branches— feathery golden spirals,...
View ArticleHaving Lost Sight Now of the Shore
Wading into the ocean of grief,I feel how the tides tugat the story of how I arrived here—the waves don’t tear my story away,no, but float its fabric around metill I wear it more looselyand meet the...
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