Oil and water

You and I are like oil and water
Touching at the surfaces
Though we spread across each other’s vastness
Our boundaries don’t emulsify
Like the rain that caresses my window
Without altering its molecules


Scarred asteroid — a found poem

Asteroids scarred by
Solar system’s violent youth
Bodies formed in warm environments
Sticking closer to the sun

No, everything is mixed
Pieces are everywhere
Gravitational elbowing by
Jostling planets
We are not alone
Even solar systems have 
Traumatic childhoods

Based on the words found here.

The crisis of immediacy

Life as a constant emergency
Left me exhausted
Immediacy of anger dwindled
Timeliness of my outrage
Replaced by dull cynicism

As the pump of adrenaline accelerated
Beyond my comprehension
I balanced on the wave of
Cresting bytes
With palpable constancy

I slammed into a wall
Of inaction
Like a cheetah after being hunted
Does that which is not newly broken
Still have relevance?

This poem was inspired by this blog post whose title I borrowed


My breath — the wind —
Slices time like Swiss cheese
Thinly with holes
And I follow blindly
What feels premeditated

Random trends toward chaos —
Or order — in each slice
What if I shuffle the deck?
Who is on top? Who on bottom?

God is warm blade and skilled hand
Caressing my puffed cheek

I was

Come closer. I am going to whisper this in your ear — some things should not be said aloud.

By the time you awaken, I will be far away in a land you cannot yet imagine. In this land I will be free to be who I was intended to be. Free to roam and discover, free to laugh and cry as I please. Free from the bonds of the voices. Free, with my hair blowing, warmth on my face.

I will seek my reflection in the water, but, unlike Narcissus, I will not succumb. I will understand what this freedom means, and be responsible for it and for myself. I will hold your dreams in my tears and live them with every molecule of my body.

When you awaken, you too will understand and love. You too will run naked through the woods at midnight howling at the wolf moon because you cannot do it any other way. You too will sprout hair and ideas that are yours alone. Yours will be the stars and the petals and you will become one of them.

We will turn feral again and away from apologies and contritions. We will tear life with our teeth. We will braid our breath into the mountains and streams, and when it gets cold, sit down and enjoy the heat of the wilderness.

Come closer. When you awaken, you will whisper “Was she really here?” I was.