moon soon sun [5]


like that

evening comes.

stretching across alleyways

and four lane streets

blanketing the troubles of you and me

quieting the rustle of tree leaves into first position,


like that evening comes.

and soon the moon

arches high to a place we cannot reach

the sky is blinking back

star, wish, star

in the heavens where our dreams retreat

rests the orb

of crests and crashes.

it is not my

first, or second, or third thought

to feel at peace during this leveling,

to trust layers of black, of night

to protect me.

but still, safety does come

as a release of hope

from feeling that i cannot know

much more than

here is moon

soon sun

to replace it.


there is a staircase

of vespers

leading from the jaws

of those we love

to the firmament

a stage of remembrances.

upon the stage we uncoil

the skein of what sickens us

and throughout the unraveling

we settle upon the knots

call to God, call to passed souls

call to spirits of Nouns we wish to embody

we lay on those Words

we lay on the pnuema

to transmit truths

the sun erases by shining.


where night creeps,

day breaks;

we are all carried over.


for girls with no game [3]

i feel you.

it started on the playground
of course
dodgeball met your face
and that already loose baby tooth
unrooted, dropped
into your hand and you wondered
if you pricked the loose nerve end
with your nail bitten fingers
would the pulse of pain
strike you in your cheek?

in gym class
you count the dots
on the basketball
never try to dunk
and pass the ball whenever it is handed to you.

the first boy i loved
was a nimble six year old
with a toothless baby smile
and a name so silly
my mouth can not repeat it.
when he saw me with a basketball
he told me to throw it
and i told him
i’d counted 450 dots already
and wasn’t that cool?

it always goes that way.
he asks you for the salt
and you talk about salt mines
and salt flats
and the salt your mother
would throw over her shoulder
whenever daddy came home late.

you are gameless
and i feel you.

and sometimes, i think,
if i’d learned how to dribble
or understood strategy
i wouldn’t be playing hot potato with a phone
running through
all the different ways to say
but mean so much more than
i want to say,
Boy the way you are is beautiful
Can you feel me?

i do not know
if gameless girls
like us
even talk like that.

and you think
Aight, aight
I got this
you say that he is nice
you smile softly enough
that even if he rejects you
you will be able to land
on the cushion of your own lips.

you are so nice
so good
so girl
and somewhere,
in a spot you cannot name,
in an undottable place,
you feel like that will not be enough

he tells you the same
that you are nice
so good
so easy
and already this is complicated.

his lips do the same,
you both are looking to
fall into safety

he recognizes
that you recognize
game ain’t shit you have in common
no one is playing
this is dangerous

you say
Skin is our largest organ
he says
I feel you


new year’s eve/new year’s day/new [1]

You say if you could leave him

stranded on a day

in a past you both shared

you would. You would

leave him standing on

the Jersey Shore

sight lines set on sea

and you would

whisper to the waves

the caries of love that

carry you back to his


And when he calls your name

the sea responds

wave, breaking

wave, breaking


of all the words

you will speak

when you’re gone.