Wednesday, March 10, 2021


A calcified valve

is what years without tears

will make

I look down at my own toes

and notice that they are

slowly turning to stone

I know that sand 

running through your veins

will wear away all the rough edges

We share jokes

that can only be heard 

in the dark

The same dark 

makes the living feel frozen

and I am just a snowflake 

Walk this life

between vapor and ice

swim for as long as you can

Friday, February 5, 2021

Bury the Hatchet

Snow tires rest on my head

Holes in my socks 

from sweeping the floor

No roads are open today 

Labor is for the outside 

Shoveling the path

Knitting a sweater

Frying an egg

The words are right there 

just floating in the air

like big, slow, soft flakes

that melt on your tongue

Poetry is for the inside

Bury the hatchet 

Find the biggest hill you can climb

Close your eyes and throw your hands up