National Poetry Month 04/2020


Snow in spring wakes ups
The knowledge that a soft
And often cool approach
To the gift of our growth
Is gradual and sometimes
It is a process of drifting

Bring inside the plants
Who need more warmth
And color the sidewalks
With leaves of your trees
Planted in stable earth

Trauma’s Coaxing Refrain

Wash to shore on water’s breeze
Who I was is slippery
Maybe it was never real
The ghost in me so temporal

Who I see I like much more
Not needy for stranger’s amor
Rather just a pull on me
To climb to top of ego’s tree

I’ll look down oh-so-prettily
Blowing kisses at the sea

The Land Of Scene

Open up a window
And let the wind blow
Because I don’t know
There’s nothing I should know

I’m happy to be
Framing pictures I see
In ornate fantasies
No one will ever believe

I have as you might see
No messy spleen to bleed
Tread the path you grow
With soles of boots on row

Situational Irony

Culling favor out of spite
I cast weak chin into the night
Where fists fall hard on enemy
And sap the will right out of me

Firing squad of angry stares
The children of those with no cares
I see their blades from sides of eyes
The judging dandy they despise

Lysol Breath

You blamed me
for problems
that your buzzing
beehive group mind
because yes
things are as bad
as they seem and we
have little control over
our lives and one
misstep can hurtle us
over the edge
and into the void

Now there’s no one
left to blame

Ingrowing Up

Gracias tibi for
believing in me
Even if just once
and it was long ago
My wave function
breaks down when

I am observed

But for every
positive charge
I shed my skin
and like a toenail
become so strong


A memory persists
with every step

you take

Corner Barred

Wise owl folded paper’s creased
Each line I earn till I’m deceased
Fated plucked from wine’s increase
The gods of luck were missing me

Waking up from memory bath
Inspiration glides into my path
I’ll wish and pray that I could laugh
Anticipating specter’s wrath

Men Straight

Outcasts from society
Broken kids with bleach and dye
Treat me like a circus freak
Lucky they can sympathize
My awful plight not being a guy
One tough customer who lies
About emotions locked away
Never to see light of day
Be a man they’d often say
Now I do not need their praise


drip drip drip
the earworm chirps
sip sip sip
your way to church
whooshes and
with mellow dip
slip and slip
around the lip
to the floor
not gasping
for air

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