Not a Real Big Thing (A Poem)

Not a Real Big Thing (A Poem)

I was 12 years old when my mother took her life Took her life, gave her life, I’ve never understood the difference. Hours earlier she was asking me to sing while her inner angel listened She kissed my skin and told me things I’d forgotten but was missing....
These Stars: 23 Poems from the Early Years

These Stars: 23 Poems from the Early Years

Burial Song 8/20/2009 Bury my body that long roots may pull their earthen breath from softened skull and lay a thousand seeds to reach and sprout upon my fingers each and slip their softened arms in mine for endless months that hold up time let all my body turn to...

Metabolizing the Pain (A True Story)

I’m 12 years old. And I’m locked eye to eye with my mother. Two people, one crumbling… the other leaving. We have a flight to catch. Micronesia. Weeks earlier, we spent days packing the things we couldn’t take on the plane and we shipped it all off. Stuffed animals....
Bring Your Shears (A Poem)

Bring Your Shears (A Poem)

All of life is welcome, to me. Bring your salt, bring your tears. The softness, nay, the shears, Because all of you is welcome Here. When there is doubt Or fear Or wanting more to hear When there is laughing hard Or choking down Or letting it all run clear I’ll...