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Tonight
I’m going to be in love tonight under this hidden moon in this welcome season just tonight as this house creaks like seventy year old bones, as murders grow in awful hands, as no one sets foot on this...
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I Am Part Of The Night
It is always the moon whispering with foul breath to me, while stars drip like bad oil paint, chips in a perfect, black sky. The sun doesn’t say anything. It just sits in its place, waiting for the day...
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She Would Know
I’m hungry. My stomache tugs at an old fetus, belly up, a stutter in a hot month. I think, I would paint her like a spring egg, or sculpt her like a chess game where she could be queen and cut off the...
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Wings Of Amity
Is my dead name happening? September, my quickest friend. Who waits for who? Each night, your hands part my lips, delivering the wise bees. My throat tickles from his telling wings, his impossible...
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Looking For Bloggers To Review My Chapbook
I am currently seeking bloggers to write a review of my small collection of poetry, Some Things Ache In The Dark, that’s just been released through Writing Knights Press. If you are interested, please...
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Away With The Night
You who are with me, who ache with me, please, lay still, hold your breathing – we are sinking we sink, beneath wings of bad mothers, through sad voices of home our dead limbs fall off, our bones sleep...
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The Death Of Roses
He’s splashing in cyanide tonight, elbow deep in death grease, peeling it off long enough to shout his love at me. My bed is empty like this, I lay here, empty, like this, sipping on his poisonous...
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This Life And Thereafter
For every one I have killed, I have killed the heart of two, and taken the hand of the most Sinister Man – his Red Blood has turned mine Blue; and, no, I did not whisper under breath, or breath into...
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Three Minutes In
Three minutes in – I am a dream. Have you ever been met by a mirror? Twisted like eyebrows in confusion. Steel eye compartments ready for battle. Nail my head to the floor, my only choice is to look up...
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Butterfly Wings
Her conversation created craters around fine dining – she is one glass too many, I read her like wine before we sat down. The light was getting too frisky when she reached South for my heart. Her eyes...
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