Poem — I leave halfway through my second poem exiting via the quietest sky I am dumb, a tomb of atoms fingers stung by dishes and womb There is no balm for empty touch Our old sofa, the witness to a thousand deaths comes to life to cheer me on The flies…

A Poem — I try to paint the sweet dark ache of yesterday’s memories but they slip off my brush roll down the easel and into the cavity between my sanity and Neruda’s poetry, crushed like the orbs of berries beneath our feet when we walked through summer and you picked a wildflower paused…

A Poem — Light loses me as I drift backward Stars grow cold on my skin I cup my name one last time hold it to my face but it rivers away The end looks at me A breeze pauses to let me out The death of water comes in the turn of beautiful waves…

A Poem — I count you Count your memories offered to me like wild berries I separate your words of love and hope into abacus pearls I count each pain to learn how to take it away I undress you count your sighs drink them like dew I am your locus I count you…

A Poem — In the painting I will never show you the silent red of the sun sets on your bare skin To the ocean’s mid-tone I add blues so deep inside you I cannot fathom their beauty Adrift in your faraway eyes I paint clouds of dream grey And at last, on…