Poetry speaks to me
In a language
Made of bells
It engulfs me
In hues of pink
Making shadows of myself
Thousands and thousands of times
In this totality
I find you
Over and over again
Because it is you
I want

Poetry speaks to me
In a language
Made of bells
It engulfs me
In hues of pink
Making shadows of myself
Thousands and thousands of times
In this totality
I find you
Over and over again
Because it is you
I want

We’re not alike
I am – paused
You – straight’shooter
Fracturing the curvature of my spine
If you’re going to love me
Love me – well
Victoring these days
That feel like nights
Resurrected
By one giant sky

Doors between us
You tell me
Be careful with my head
These ambitious thoughts
Must hide them
Like contraband
In this reverent space
I greet you
Making myself
An immediate cautery
Instead of shaking your hand


Time spent
In this commercial space
Immeasurable
Nights, days, collide
Growing this business
Has left many gaps in this blog
Months, years of silence
Yet, words collide
Meeting me in disbelief
And in this mutuality
I break my fast
Before dawn
I think of color
Conte technique
Over this pillow
I shade pebbles
Greater than your hands
Scattering through debris of seeds
In a place with so few trees
Hearing your echo intertwined with mine
What is ‘this’ passion
If you can’t meet me halfway
Sometimes
You feel like a void
That I follow
Without following you
A portraiture
The tonality
Of a single text

I am
Unsure
Of what I feel
You taught me
Strength
The
Unimaginable
Kind
Circumstance
Brings me here
A place where I can
Hang my words
And, my unraveling
Thoughts of you . .
Jan 26, 2026

You can’t
Start a fight
In a lonely
Home . .

A subtle lullaby
Bronzed
As the earth rotates
Such wonder
Touching a vain
Girl’s heart. . .

I once knew
How light was spent
Its trickling effects
As faith pointed
With a golden rod
My own despair
Sat in a womb of fear
Aware it was not science
My conscious inadvertently
Reversed millions of words
Narrowing it down to one
-God

Heavy lines
Mounted over me
These purple nights
Drowning super stars
Forgetting what it is to write
Phosphorus dynamite
Encircles and intertwines
Muting one decade at a time

This so called, craft
Floats, steady, and upwards
Myself, in a time of mirrors
– August

Knocking darkness
Out of nights
Even in these shadows
Truthfully speaking
I prefer daylight
The hardest

I am adapting
Cowardly, but adapting
This is distinction
Between surviving
And existence

My mercy
A need to substitute
My mouth, for a dream
Different homes
Pincushions for doorknobs
Damnit I love you

One must be blind
Stripping God of its own light
Things none of us could be
The profound luster in lines
It’s happening to me
A wound, too echo’d to reveal
That love is not found in days

A writer sometimes retains only those poems that find no place. A strange ineffable experience of the mind, its enormous success of self love
Almost fierce
Cannot be
Until Am is Am
My very veins
In its desire to be
Fight for insight
God’s copyright
In this interior of light
My signature becomes
A wrath that requires no reason


Forgot
How still
Your mind is
This is not
A compliment
It’s rhetoric,
It chokes
The good parts of me
Hang over my feet
Like lousy flowers
That love just like me

Thought
Much less
of me
Flask-less-ly
You waited
Like spirits
Hanging over

Veils of what I’ve done wrong ..

Covers us in blue
In the instant
Of this instant
Memory invents
Another present
A circular courtyard
With superstitious
Flashes of light
Intended to cover
Every crack in our horizon

The eternities of a second
My whole life to solve
Pitiless searches for a body
To grow old with
Nameless sensations
Such a cruel thing
To miss the dead
With this immeasurable clarity
Like gravid drops of hope
Spinning over itself
Tirelessly, till we learn
How to love, again . .

The furthest of reaches
Sex seal serpentines
These syllogisms
Transform me
Inside is outside
It is everywhere
And nowhere
Invented
Devoured
– Man

We live in identical rooms
We blankly wake, we greet
From one balcony to another
Successively for a hundred years
Between now and tomorrow
We will spend the rest of our days
Growing gardens out of angry stars

Like birds
With a grape to blame . .

Love clamps itself
Leaving small gaps
With just enough spaces
Allowing you to taste
Your very own tongue

Communicate
A little more
Than twice
Like syllables
Gain enormousness
Looking for us
In the middle
Of the night
There’s no such thing
As neatness
When it comes
To our minds
I breath
You flicker
Incalculable
Of course . .
Collide like us
Like they
Like me
And we


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