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 are still dying where I hung them on the line I leave every type of mask behind I go, naked of wisdom and time If you liked this, you might enjoy my poem:

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 to hold your palms to my cheeks move my hair tuck that flower behind my ear and I paused too to fall in love with you I try to paint those wild berry memories

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 harms no one when taken alone

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 again

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 the water I scatter your voice in breaths of light