I’m currently keeping most drafts hidden, with an eye to eventually publishing.
However, I love feedback, and I am happy to share what I’m working on privately. Are you looking for readers and feedback? I am too! Drop me an email at email@example.com.
For Poets In April
To do, or not to do
is not question,
has taken to barking,
and lays her head on my hand
with a sigh.
Spell For A Kiss
: your eyes
: your hands
I’ve upset the balance
of ice cream and broccoli,
an avalanche: our frozen topology
is forever altered.
Na/GloPoWriMo Day Thirty is getting sassy. All month, they’ve given us some difficult prompts – sometimes more than I think I can do in a day. And today, the last day, “write a micro poem,” they say. Sure, we all can do haiku, right?
Sly they are. Tricksy. That said, I like short forms.
I swear – upon all the poems I write that include kisses – that my fist chapbook will be titled “Spells For Kisses.”
The relationship was already over – I knew it,
maybe he did to, but I doubt it –
he wasn’t that smart, but it wasn’t
the first time I dated
not that smart.
Nor the last.
It was waking up with my dress —
soft black crushed
curled on my collarbone,
under shoulders —
I had said no, tucked my skirts
just so: I don’t think I trusted him, I
knew something was up.
It was his hands
that sealed the deal. Cease
I never said goodbye.
Na/GloPoWriMo Day Twenty-Nine asks us to write a meditative poem.
This is as detached as I’m going to get.