The first time I saw my work on a printed page was in middle school. My public school was blessed with a lovely English teacher who donated her time to an after-school literary club that printed yearly magazines. The satin, black and white pages were filled with the pourings of…

Voice Mail

I saved a voice message from you

I replay it, afraid to forget our history

and so I can hear you say you love me

when I forget to love myself

the recording is accurate, nearly

exhaustion through cracked syllables

and the thin hopeless whine

spins like a record, quietly

I used to pretend that tomorrow you would call

as your words each time tell me

but the string of those tomorrows hangs

in the back of my memory

and memories can’t make phone calls

no matter how much they miss you

Feral

Fetishize the tangled side

distilled from a distance

but too feral to love

Dilated to dark days

playing on anyway

run it to gravel and push

Let there be some levity

lost in the lush

a pull or crush

Of softness

or solace

rubbed to the bone

Wrapped to protect

please stay away

there’s nothing left

— —

Greenery

Things come clear

and nothing is soft

time loses its poetry

rhythm lost

harsh lines and edges

of character and intention

comes through

grey areas

faded colors

rinsed and repeated

until thats how

how it goes

how It is now

easier to see

trees in flat fields

when options seem sparse

You take what’s been given

Did the reader close the book

walk away

leaving unfinished business

for some unknown time

or is this a terrible

choose your own adventure

with the happy endings

ripped from the spine

Perhaps just a pause

dog eared

to be picked up

continued again

will memory serve

will the arc make sense

or is it changed

never new again

My skin is too thin to stomach it

you know, anything

Wind, rain, snow

hands, mouths, blows

Tears

micro and macro

superficial

deep

Never terminal

not yet anyway

Empire

I couldn’t separate you from the city

worn in and beautiful

cramped and labored

but there’s the charm

in airport terminals and cab rides to your door

I should be so lucky

to wake up in the shadow of the empire state

to fall in your step

past trash heaps and concrete

reflected in subway car windows

curled into you

It fits like a glove I can’t afford to wear

the alcohol on our breath

spins me unsteady

it’s never as good off paper

can I own needs

or will yours always be louder

When I moved to Chicago from a small town I willingly traded my endless personal space for constant activity and the ‘luxury’ of disappearing into a crowd. The closeness of strangers in motion is synonymous with city living. …