Virginia Storm

Clouds are tectonic

plates, shifting when

solid air becomes its

own enemy.

The earthquake

s h a t t e r s oxygen

skyscrapers, the

cities of birds are

torn apart as lightning

re-fuses molecules to

beat the Hyde out of duality.

No one cries

at the sound of

thunder, white

children kicked from

the sky, reverse

genocide.

San Francisco

sky in Virginia

cumulus

Proud

“I am

proud

of you.”

The sonogram

or an

HD screen.

Kisses on my

skin, but not my

heart.

Pluto

lifting the

ozone.

On Washing Long-sitting Dishes

Jasmine tea

choking in a

covered travel

mug I used

last week.

Spoons and forks that

know the inside of my

mouth almost

better than my

tongue.

Bowls that save

me from the

needles of a merciless

stomach.

Plastic arms,

tin toes,

what callouses

remember me?

Human Soup

Give me

advice—the gravy

boat floating down the

table—pause.

Wonder at your

old self, Van Gogh

before he was

Van Gogh.

Examine my sight,

Listen to my words,

Check my plate.

With what

love is your special

seasoning spiced?

Who, then,

will wash

my dishes?

Revenge

Someday,

I would like to write a note

To all my friends, family, and acquaintances

On the back page of the first book of poems

I publish.

“To all those

Who say they love me,

But are reading my heart’s

Outpouring for the first time:

You never knew me,

And it is your loss

Not mine.”

Returning from a Long Digital Absence...

I have not written on this blog in about three months, which speaks well to my tendency to start, forget, and then pick up things (if you could only see the collection half-finished journals in my bookshelves). But, I have not stopped writing poetry, so let the numerous blog posts begin!

Thanks to Rachel Harris for giving me a good 'ol push.

ברוך (Barukh)

I am constantly aware of your blessings—

Lapping against my arms gently

Like sea water inseparable of the shore.

I cannot be without you:

Deprived of you, I am dry and barren—

I crust up, hardened against you.

How much better am I

When I let you run through me—

A sieve of righteousness

Filled with grace.

How purposeless am I

Bereft of your waves of love

And your monsoons of changing discipline.

Like a sinking coastline

Let me bring into you all that surrounds me

That the sand might kiss and embrace the water.

Let my soul slowly erode

Into all that you are

Until none of me is  left.