Here’s the poetry on the old blog: link.

And suspiciously lacking from that list is one of my favorites,


I’m shredding sheets of paper
as if the tatters didn’t matter
ink drips down my tendon
it offers tension, but it is acidic
and burns through the strands

the echoes of last night linger
on this page, in my mind and
out there on the calm waters
but anchored in this shallow bay
your ship is parched
starving barnacles cling to its hull.

there is music to the waves
which move my heart
wash it ashore
wish it well on its long journey home.

the rain pools
frigid rhythms from needles
your warm hands held the cold at bay
last year when this inlet was vibrant
but snowless winters cast parched shadows
and there is no fresh water but in the puddles.

your once round face
with rosy cheeks
red during the winter weeks
now cracked, now pointed
it suits you better
but it is more difficult to navigate.

claustrophobia inches in, sets its talons on my skin
and digs.
deep beneath the surface tension
where the swelling urges outward
I will sit here with
my tatters, my sinking ship
and my memories of you
until the ceiling caves
and the world crashes in upon me.