selected poems, with preview stanzas. click to read full poem.
I drive through the dark how I did as a teen
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gut dropping with the familiar twists in the streets
the cars here bear more bruises
halfway shining incandescent up the hills
i know how the road beneath me feels
how my screams sound filtered through these leaves
i know the shapes of the shadows, the patterns they weave
in flickers out the corner of my eye
i know how the static swallows you here
how the saltwater taunts you to breathe
until you find your life marked with a cross beneath a tree
‘she dreams in her mother tongue’ - poem, 2023
i tear at the phonemes, the tone, the cadence
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as if I could draw out by force an inkling
of what it is her mind churns over
to me, it sounds sweet, almost melodic,
yet frantically lilts, gets partially swallowed
abrupt and bright, a little bit scared?
I’m left with the scraps of an unravelling tapestry
longer than eyes can see or minds can recall
and with bare hands, I blindly weave
‘rhapsody on a sleepless night’ - poem, 2024
the world deserves you
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i will stake my life on it with fearful certainty
you sing shadows into being and give them a heartbeat
yet swallow stifling, searing light until the knife twists
i will stake my life on your words, your actions
your mind and all which spills from it endlessly
as i watch the tears fall with stilted melody onto the rosewood
‘to alba, on the tram’ - poem, 2023
i left you surrounded by scattered books
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haphazard tales laid by faceless hands
placed lazily, left in a haze
the insurmountable maze of rooftop malaise
a tale told by every page and finger placed upon it
but I am the mould on the shower door
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I am the water circling the drain
I am the faces you forget
and the feelings you have lost and the floor that drops beneath you
I have seen the walls collapse around you
I have been the unbearable light that broke through afterwards
to try and caress you, but leaving you blind
I am comprised of images tethered by fraying twine
I speak not in words, but whispered syllables that slice the air into two
as I am divided and put back together too
I am not even a rag doll but Geppetto’s tears on the desk
not even Lazarus, I have only the pleasure of dying once
I am everything you think I’m not, and maybe a bit more
‘and I’ feels right as it concatenates your name
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as I feel my head in your lap only five degrees prior
as the trees seemed unusually green through the window
as we speak for inadvertent hours
as you show me washed out photos and blog posts collected