Poetry
- Stuck on Pennie Lane: a musical comedy February 14, 2012
He never wrote a song about me. Not one. Not even a note, which he might have carried to me in a small, brown paper bag and deposited on the doorstep, where, of course, I might have looked upon it, feeling trepidacious. Percussion: Djembe...
- To the man on the phone from New York who says, “You sound like a quality woman; I bet you have a quality husband.” February 10, 2012
I / There is no husband for this would-be wife, kerchief-absent, broom stilled in the corner, empty oven—cavernous affair of crumbs so black they disappear in the cold depth— cast-off life. Words pass over the wires, electric with gr...
- Song for Sparrows January 23, 2012
She is spare, as a sparrow, small and trembling— all angles, and bone, and tongue, thin skin, the endless desert of inattention staggering toward the mirage of touching. And you warned her... but you kissed her, regardless. "It won't mean ...
- Over the Line January 13, 2012
There are no more Jonatha Brooke songs to be sung about how I will leave the light on. I will not leave the light on. The grainy gray of your face illuminated everything. I am hungry for better men. You had me. Lovely. Brown eyed. Wild h...
- (Medium) Red Minivan January 12, 2012
I take another hit of this Where's Waldo red minivan shit, exhale Happy Birthday to the man who is dead. Raise a toast to the memorized face whose lines are forgotten; the stale poem with arrhythmic inflection, an affliction of battle scars c...
- Michigan Won Because We're Not Together December 31, 2011
It was the five-year football anniversary of our second first date. OSU vs. Michigan, which was a bad day to drive in from out of state. (with your parents, on two hours of sleep no breakfast, a Quaker Parrot in the companion seat who is...
- El Caminito Del Rey (The King's Little Pathway) December 1, 2011
This path is not for the faint of heart. It is a high, narrow gorge, crumbling rockface, handrails chipped and falling 350 feet to the river below; it is somber concrete set on rails and pocked with holes, blind curves, places where the steel ...
- The "M" Word November 30, 2011
She sits down to make a list of everything she wants. Normally, they are long lists. They consist of all manner of ridiculous ramblings, a tall order of impossible things (no one could possibly be Blue Marvel and Anti-Man both bundled in a body ...
- Nothing compares to you—except, apparently, Season One of TrueBlood. November 23, 2011
Usually, you're all I can think about— you in that picture I saw (and can't unsee) with the woman who won't even come close to replacing me; it is a melodramatic story, it launches a dagger of pain at that place where my heart used to be, and t...
- An Angry Letter Regarding Tin Woodman (or Cowardly Lion) November 22, 2011
Inspired by a quote from Mahatma Gandhi: “A coward is incapable of exhibiting love;it is the prerogative of the brave.” Sir, you lack the courage of your convictions! You fail to endure unpleasant things. Dastard, recreant, poltroon...
- The Story of Us November 10, 2011
The Story of Us was a fairy tale she told about the power of man and woman. He had a six-string and could sing; he had a degree in law and religion; he told her there were things "burbling around in his chestal region" and that she might be squ...
- Daughter of Grief October 20, 2011
Here at the edge of the empty, endless dusk, there is an ocean— I will walk there. I will go to drown in the limitless. I will go under in the unknown and the unforgiven. Every gasp is a snapshot turning yellow, fading and curling, and I will...
- A Tiger Chasing Horses October 19, 2011
If she could, she would take a backpack and go hiking the woods near 70, where there are bears and lions and tigers on the loose chasing horses and stopping dead in the middle of the Interstate, eyes wide, playing Russian roulette with the SUVs ...
- Wild Halo October 8, 2011
What does he see? The unkempt, wildness of her; she is ridiculous. If you subtract the scarf, and the sunglasses, the way she hides her eyes behind the brim of her black hat...those heavy black socks she wears—jeans, strapped in; she fights ...
- Life is Something (or) You Ought Not Feel August 9, 2011
"Life is something," he said. "But what?" she might have asked. He was trying to impress upon her some blend of magic mixed with pragmatism (and failing miserably). It was clear that magic won, hands down. Magic spoke of all those th...
- Flexible Fringe July 25, 2011
She is twisting back upon herself, this way, that— or she is in the space between, the center empty, trapped inside the extreme curve of release, the arch, the crook, the compass— charming the ouroboros till it surrenders its im...
- He Meant Everyone Else June 30, 2011
Let go. That's what the man said while he was rubbing the palm of her hand back and forth, weaving in a whole picture between the lines meant to show her life expectancy, whether she would marry, have children, or die lonely. Let go. And t...
- The Blessing of Grit July 27, 2009
I have all of this: the soft, butter-yellow light of my regard; the brown tips of my fingers brushing against skin; and the careful press of my palm to the body of this, most beloved of manifestations.
- Rock Band at 2am July 14, 2009
The coffee table was littered with the refuse of youth: a small bowl of finger nail polish, mostly shades of purple and fuchsia; twists of tissue displaying the old remains of color once daintily laid in thick layers to brighten the tips of toe...
- Into the Quiet Withdraw July 6, 2009
Love is very quiet, today, like a fallen blossom nestled in blades of grass— not even the wind can touch it. Tomorrow, it is blustering, the leaves of trees in a gale; shifting, back and forth, shaking furious fingers in every direction. ...
- Jim Croce and Rumba's Back Patio (too easily incognito) May 14, 2009
The lights glowed, small, pinpoints like the tiny globes of fireflies or sprites frozen in ice—they lined the fence, same wood lattice that spread across the back patio where we used to sit. (They would drink beer and I would sip my tea, and rol...
- The Heart of God May 5, 2009
I am filled with sorrow... I am a weighted creature, sinking deeper beneath dark waters. There is only the barest hint of a hand reaching out, or of the dream I had, where I leaned back, into you, and you were warm, and we belonged one to the oth...
- The Before Time (In the Long Ago) April 12, 2009
She slips out into the night, black sky, made omnipotent by the high-rise gait of the six-inch stiletto slicing down from the heels of her red boots. "There is another life beneath the one you see here," she says, smiling, and then she han...