Apocalypse Now

The world is ending, haven’t you heard? The Amazon is on fire, we’re running out of air, and the water is about to be all salt. Every politician is a parasite bent on nothing but filling their swollen bellies with cash, and food is all manufactured, edible plastic. Isn’t that something? The world is ending,…

Still Life

The problem with stillness is that the moment you notice it’s there, it’s given weight. Once acknowledged, it starts to grind over you, smearing you beneath the hands of a clock. The silence is not comfortable, but imposing, asking you if what you have to say is really worth anything, if it’s even enough to…

Empty Me

I’ve told you I’m no good at discarding the beautiful, the keepsakes, the nostalgic, the useless. With no discrimination, no exclusions, “Everything Must Stay!” And stay it has. Your section gathering dust, a menagerie of memories that catch under my skin. A faded emporium gagging on trinkets of costume jewelry and barbie doll memories. Pointed, plastic…

The Poetry Reading

Everyone’s afraid to touch the microphone, everyone except you. You, reflected in the bottom of a water glass, sun in every window, bouncing off buildings, and turning your outline into art. You, with shoulders relaxed, chest rising easily with each soft laugh. Sweet, and genuine, and self-assured, a real natural. Deliberate and calm, handing that…


A once-prized Dolce and Gabbana handbag lying in the corner of the bathroom floor, stained in tiny, makeup-covered fingerprints, empty, save two bright hair ties for little girl braids.


I find it more than a little difficult to let things go. My apartment is strewn with bits of paper: old cookie fortunes, bus passes, parking tickets, anything I think I might need and a hundred things I know I won’t. Still, I keep them, pressed between the pages of books, hidden under flowerpots, scraps…


I used to be able to tell you anything. Through your silences and perfectly-timed kisses, you opened me up to every word I wanted to speak. Vulnerability, honesty, they were stirred by the taste of your tongue. And together we began unfolding.

Cowardly Lion

You like to insist that you were my first man; the first to hold me in solid arms, in a frame that would protect me. You teased me saying I was half in love, and honestly, I was.

She and I

When I was very young, I made her. Or should I say, I met her? She was woven from the threads of my imagination, stars pinned in wild, dark hair, gold dust on her feet.

Yes, please.

I want to run my tongue along your crooked teeth, bite your lips, feel you breathe. And if you want a piece of me, all you have to do is ask.