zinc words & images

  • My beloved in sun

    Let’s leave The summer behind My warm, sunburnt back. You tenderly kiss The air and Inhale the bright sky. I can hear your mouth Speak the sounds Of ocean waves. They fall On me and Remind me Summer will come again.

  • If I could ask you to

    Some days are easier. The faucet drips, The light filters through the trees And I don’t Immediately Think of you. My coffee is undisturbed And my toast is not burnt. But, There are days Where you are Present In every thought. My ice water perspirates, My dog begs. You are between the words Said by…

  • Barricade

    Do I heal if I’m the one breaking my own heart. If I have unstrung the ligaments in my chest that hold me together, that have me looking east for the sunrise, so that I can try not to love you. Will I come back together without you in the space where my blood blossoms?…

  • In the Margins

    My fingers on paper losing their way. I draw circles around you, the empty middle is where my imagination lies.

  • Corner locations

    we take place take our places migrate just out of reach though we don’t dig, we are buried up to our chests in silence our chests silent for a moment and we gain our breath holding it against our skin a barrier that moves like sorrow collapses revives and collapses again forget our cardinal twining…

  • Lasting

    We took a little Time off the top To think about The redundancy Of our lives. How we met And loved The words That came Across Our lips More than We loved One another. I sheltered you Like a seed Cupped in my hands And I was A penny to be saved. We agreed, No…

  • Smoke on a Cloudy Night

    Tonight, I wish I still smoked. My brain And body vibrate With late spring’s promise And I want my hands And heart to be busy. Each pore could be filled With smoke, like a beehive, Settling my desire, my heat, Abating the humid atmosphere That seeks my envelopment.

  • Ossify

    Bones grind to high heaven like an unholy ferris wheel and I am caught, a piece of fabric, frayed and flapping against the wind. A prayer of quiet in the joints and knuckles that are white-hot with their crackling. They talk to me and speak of the limestone and dirt from which I am made,…

  • The Return of Spring

    I bloom when I speak, When the rain beats the windows, When I recline in the sun.   I bloom, if you remember, When you ask, who is the artist- The one who teaches the future.   I bloom when I nap, Softly breathing, dreaming beneath A tartan print blanket.   I bloom at night,…

  • April at Night

    Tonight the windows ripple with lightening.   Each shot from the sky breaks me open like bread.   With rain, instrumentation, an arrangement,   layers that drop into place, roil my body,   subside and return louder, more insistent.   Water wants its place beside the night’s bright fire.