Poetry

Who am I without you?

You send me notes from every hiding place in the world, sketches of my dreams, those late-night whispers I shared while sweat beaded our sake glasses and smoke swirled above us. “We’ll do it together,” you’d said. Now it’s just you on the stage of Instagram, as I sit and watch you act out those […]

Cookbooks and such – a bad poem influenced by wine

*Note: please do not read if your sensibilities would be offended by foul language or sexual content   Cookbooks and such I wonder if you still have that cookbook That we used the few times we stayed in And made a real meal together Fucking on the counter Letting the food burn just a little […]

A Sense of Home

You, you smell like home Wherever that may be A mix of cinderblock and salt air Canyon brush and jasmine Eucalyptus and redwood Dogwoods and daffodils Like snow melting and ground warming You smell like metal lockers and those awkward teenage moments When I wished with everything to take back what I just said Like […]

Fragment

From the archives: Jarred Like when you drove the car into a ditch And we both realized we were okay Blood pulsing through my fingers, throbbing in my temples Pooling on my lip where I bit down, anticipating Brain buzzing It’s been so long since I felt that Alive Makes me reach for the keys

Dia de los Muertos

archival poetry: Will my sugar skull be enough to make you want to return just for this one night Will the sound of laughter and clinking glasses be enough to draw you out from where you are What if the laughter is tinny and hollow because the celebration is too soon or too far after […]

fragment

I lick your wound. The salty sadness of it, The rank weepiness of it. I lick and I lick And from the outside it looks Maternal, Or at least generous and caring. But I am eating your pain. I feel it coursing And I want more. I lick And you think it soothes. To have […]

fragment

another from the archives: You are there. Just under the skin, in the blood, returning, unexpected, like a virus. I close my eyes, but you loom larger. I smell you in a stranger, hear your voice in a crowd, long for you in a silent, empty kitchen. But I needn’t miss you, ache for you, […]