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bubbles.
this is always my favourite way to start the cold, wintery holiday season. sit beside the breakfast table, think about your troubles, pour yourself a cup of tea and think about the bubbles. you can...
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apartments.
too many apartments i haven’t seen lie parallel across the frost, cut like seams of highways fighting for the lake in winter we use him, and cloth to cut the ice on the canal. i don’t go home with...
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december poem.
you fall between two alphabetically, a place they have both been before, on bleachers in snow i fall for the drywall, the bottles of wine if you were not you i would reach for wrought iron the gate...
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dawn.
a stampede broke the glasses we used for our seeing and drinking, and i was already drunk: my heart bled for a year. on the arm of my couch like it hadn’t your tongue melted mine with the lights from...
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dear february.
dear february, i’m sorry for all the bad things i said to you and about you and behind your back. you are cold and cruel, but you are lovely also. you didn’t hurt me; i hurt myself & tried to bring...
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more chairs.
well it finally happened and i live alone. it took me a year but it happened. just me, and gunther of course. and king julien & mort, who survived yet another move and who have been noticeably...
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pencil.
you’re so long and dry, impatient. six month stutter i outlined and traced and he erased, and every time we’ve turned our backs we have exposed another white lace silhouette. there is no one to tell....
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hockey.
as grateful as i am that i have not received a paper cut in these two years, that cautionary slice, i am that hockey season’s over, and with it that pale memory of yellow living rooms, the walls the...
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a place.
napowrimo #1 early in the crisp forgotten winter, our morning, you hissed, like slushing snow on tires in my ear our bed, our pillows oxymorons for a place we wish we were but cannot be, a place we...
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notice.
it’s been a month. a long, empty month. on the personal side of things it’s been busy: i got engaged, i’m finding myself at times overwhelmed (in a good way) at work, i’ve been planning the wedding and...
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december poem.
you fall between two alphabetically, a place they have both been before, on bleachers in snow i fall for the drywall, the bottles of wine if you were not you i would reach for wrought iron the gate...
View ArticleClik here to view.
dear february.
dear february, i’m sorry for all the bad things i said to you and about you and behind your back. you are cold and cruel, but you are lovely also. you didn’t hurt me; i hurt myself & tried to bring...
View ArticleClik here to view.
more chairs.
well it finally happened and i live alone. it took me a year but it happened. just me, and gunther of course. and king julien & mort, who survived yet another move and who have been noticeably...
View ArticleClik here to view.
pencil.
you’re so long and dry, impatient. six month stutter i outlined and traced and he erased, and every time we’ve turned our backs we have exposed another white lace silhouette. there is no one to tell....
View ArticleClik here to view.
hockey.
as grateful as i am that i have not received a paper cut in these two years, that cautionary slice, i am that hockey season’s over, and with it that pale memory of yellow living rooms, the walls the...
View ArticleClik here to view.
full moons.
(it’s been five years today) let’s recount a rebellion as if we were there, not watching it happen from the back of the bar easier, still, than the truth of admitting we were not watching (not for the...
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breaking.
breaking the poem of a day streak for lists, this time still for december, for february, but written in march// 1. my hair is wet & this upsets me 2. i’m too calm and happy to be upset really 3....
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snow angels.
this is difficult enough without the wind pushing the falling snowflakes into the room, so i close your bedroom window without asking first. as i turn back to you my elbow sends your desk lamp crashing...
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sinkhole.
i bought $25 lipstick the same shade as my lips to bury and forget inside my purse will have to switch to red on february first late blooming resolution the streets have been washed clean by snow our...
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for winter.
you went sculpting, just like fishing, trying for a soul a body cased in ice to warm when no one would warm yours shaping like the hole that shows the life still in the water (auger wider, tear me open...
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