Sunday, December 17, 2017


I have seen a different rain this winter
mothers' eyes clouding over
sons screaming, fainting on the tarmac where the warriors once walked
locking children in the houses
clouds lifting from earth- skyward
this is my hometown, midwinter. 

Reading this world

I am reading on how life
bends us to stand up again
the words of my heart between two pages.

The light, once more

We count backwards, 
with glitter on our lids 
the amount of times we have been good

we count backwards, 
with a sun that half set down 
the effect of sunlight on the night 

we count backwards, 
with dignity
wait for it as it approaches 

the light makes small spaces 
roomier, makes the heart wilder 
makes way for the festive season approaching.

Sunday, December 10, 2017


You waste paper
think you ruin earth with demand of trees
cutting down into sheets
forgetting that money too is paper.

a question evades her

do you expect me to answer
every time you call, while I am sleeping?

in the old country

This disappointment
like blood, lives and breathes
inside of me.

Riches to rags and in reverse

this is your success story,
you leave behind the things that remind you of home

escape the story and claim
hindrance to another space that wraps your bones

but will not be kind to you when
you grow old,

your face is too foreign
the same goes for the hope hiding beneath you high-end frames 

this is your success story,
from riches to rags and reverse

to the basic banter of bone on bone
skin to pockets full of disappointments

this is your success story, ordinary and lacking glory.