Category Archives: Poetry

Slam

SlamWe’re sup­posed to go to the poet­ry slam,but no one can find a ride uptown. Damien wants to go see this arty for­eign film that had been released in, like, three markets.We say, no, what’s the point?Maria comes in and stops next to Damien’s brother.Hi, she says and blushes.It’s not pret­ty on her.Damien’s broth­er snorts … 

Continue read­ing “Slam”

Lit

LitThe sun returned this morning.It lit the dog from within,yellow rays blowingout of his rib cage,throwing light under the edge of the counter.It pol­ished the kitchen with but­ter­cups and­shat­tered on the refrig­er­a­tor door­where the risen Christ fig­ure­flared blue hot with­an orange lemon yel­low halo.When the sun returned this morning,I swal­lowed it whole.It lit me,streamed honey … 

Continue read­ing “Lit”

Cloud Bellies

Cloud Belliessuch a vio­let rit­u­al­some bluer skies­some yel­low­ing cracked sun­above a mad­den­ing­ly green­n­ev­er sleep­ing worldthe lit­tle sheep baa at the fas­tar­riv­ing rain cloudswith over­hang­ing bel­lies if you hate being told to breathe just stand there qui­etlyamid the tum­bling corn stalks and­hay bales stacked in inter­lock­ing patternsPublished on The Laundry Line, August 19, 2025.

Depot

DepotI have no lan­guage but what I learned from shy-bred wom­en­whose whis­pers seem all at once­root­ed in myselfand in a tongue so alien that I can’t deci­pher their warnings.I have no her­itage beyond what I car­ry in my left hand. All of my promise is shack­led to the plat­form railing.The train car­ries my moth­ers away, trailing … 

Continue read­ing “Depot”

smoke season

smoke sea­son­smoke cov­ers us in sum­mer now.no one can breathe properly.we don’t pan­ic, exactly,but there is agrow­ing foreboding.by Augustthe smell is in our houses.it’s in the sheets at night­in our tow­els in the morn­ing. we begin to taste it in our food:smoked oatmeal,grilled milk. but the sun­sets are brilliant,even other-worldly. they reflect all the colors … 

Continue read­ing “smoke season”