A Believer

He woke to tastebuds vying to recall

green grass’ wet scent–

Granny Smith, tart and crisp.

Sits on his palate in a yellow house

in somewhere Indiana

bitter roots and semi-rot instead.




Alphabet soup settles,


beguiles, during rainy cold


churning with exes and ohs


dancers in memory


exclaims of thorn and rose;




forget me, forget me not:


Gerbera, Daisy, Peony  


holds the eye to


illuminate petals


jarred in metal and glass




Kisses’ wet imprint


lost under debris and touch:


manmade, fabricated, rushed,


natural, earthy, a simmering broth


opens chambers heavy in locks




Quotes from Shakespeare,


“Romeo, Romeo! Wherefore art thou Romeo?”


“Shall I compare thee to a Summer’s day?”


“The course of true love never did run smooth.”


“Uneasy lies the head that wears the crown.”




Verity is best with diamonds and poems


warming in a bowl, letters,


Xeroxing the thoughts in her head:


yesterday, today, and tomorrow


Zigs and zags to fill a ceramic night.


Can I Have McDonalds Instead?

The humid air smelt of the overripe mangoes

squashed at the bottom of its huge tree.

Aunts, uncles, cousins, and siblings tangle

to watch the cocks fight in their little ring.

A spree with spurs taped securely to their legs.

Held back by his leash a drooling dog.

Bets flowing from hands like blood water.

Behind hips hides a young girl clasping

hands over her ears, thinking of anything,

but of her friend being torn to shreds.

Shelly, go fill the pot with water.

Fighting the urge to vomit in her mouth.

The Soloist

The night he limped outside of this life

certain to cleave the burden of chains,

she danced with friends and toasted the room,

clueless to his strain she stayed.


Their rhythm was, once, 

a ball change with perfect form, syncopated.

Combined heartbeats–

their music to quiet the storm.


Through his veins a beat pumped:

solo, solo, solo.

He took to a stage furthest from home

to save her from his blood red moon.