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  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    We called them family until they turned / a sephia hue. They couldn’t see their own change, but we knew. From the honest path, it is always clear what makes one untrue; from the dishonest path, there is no mark between sin and truth. On the dishonest path, dirt paved and dry grassed, ...
  • Poetry > All Poetry
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    Peace, a clover that grows on sand, is a great dream sowed by daft gardeners....
  • Poetry > All Poetry
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    Dreams are smashed in a dusty basement bright bulbs shine, revealing the clots of dirt on a carpet woven by grime. The audacity they've to shine, to melee with shadows, at darkness not ever flickering. For such hope it is sad that shadows are more like man, and crush the bulbs with numb...
  • Poetry > All Poetry
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    A brief moment of respite, latching- on a patch of ice to stay afloat - this - barren-blue sea. Oxygen is thin sometimes unbreathable as I grasp, for its support; the ice never melts, but breaks easily - as my hope never simmers, but simply breaks in two. Endless - I drift into: the Sp...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    This grease won’t leave, my hands, residue from yesterday’s leftovers. No matter how often, nor how hard I scrub palms and fingers are never freed from particles’ greed: I am disallowed to feel clean; time upon time day after day, a spot- stain, or two, does persist; yet I must no...

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