Bouncing off the Walls

All good / actually / actually good / thanks for asking            yeah / bright and shiny actually bouncing off the walls / on the inside / dancing yeah off the walls / actually                              no, don’t be silly / not paint / actually that comes with the dancing /actually / but I’m good […]

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Clawing our Way Down and Up

Crabshufflesover shell,slides backwardinto sandlike sun behind starand light falls,pinkgrows paler,sandbecomes sponge. I wonderif the spongeof this shellholds an echoof all I no longer hear,a sound waveshufflingbehind the lightof my ear,a reverberationfrom outer space,not my space,to settlein the place of the shellof this shorelike the kissfrom your lipsI feelpressing into mine,still. I shufflebackwards,lean into all that […]

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SEASONS OF THE FALL

I climb things, climbed things, out of warm womb,fresh from first hold into new armsalready breaking, wondering about climbing back up. I climb things, climbed things, chimneys in a child’s mindlooking for traces of reindeer and reasonsto still believe in faith and family and catching flight. I climb things, climbed things, out of closetsand their […]

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EVERYTHING COMES AND GOES

Everything comes and goesyou can’t court without a spark / but nothing lasts as longas that first light / the first night / already fading / and the morningfinds us fumbling / trying to get through / to get onto something shinier / something newer / to something newer Everything comes and goeslike the lines […]

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WHEN I CONSIDER THE ECHO OF A PULSE – NEW POEM

And another door finds its hinges turning (you lean, you linger, you lose, you leave)tides twist and then return, summer finds winterwhistling on the arms of an enigmatic autumn (leaves fall, flowers grow, dust settles before the sun)and I wonder what remains within the roomswe leave behind, in the corners now cast offwhere comfort was […]

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KEPT IN RECESSES OR THROWN TO DUST

  Old wheels still turn through new miles. We are more than we look- muscle is not only what it takes to transform. We skirt old roads now well educated on my departure, it’s not just the seasons that circle back on themselves. I’ve left parts of me in every other recess in order to […]

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THE STING

  9 is not yet known to this Sunday morning but already I’m playing catch up with the dawn in a once foreign field now renamed home, running after breaths and age that is unobtainable like caressing clouds or surviving on the sap of stems where needles immerse nettles in a loneliness we have come […]

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