zinc words & images

  • Sound and color

    Between Rome and Florence, amongst strangers, a blue-sounding tunnel took me to my destination. A star-fed cloak wrapped the day and was only interrupted by shuffling magazine pages and the argument of two men on the street. The granite cobbles seemed to move with them, allowing their hands to gesture above the cars girdling the…

  • Closing time

    With seconds left you tell me. Lights soaring and ripping apart the sky. Stones scattered on the rain-discolored pavement. When your eyes are closed, you say, this is what eternity looks like. But you are born today or yesterday or 50 years from now. Time is shuffled like cards and God lands on whatever is…

  • Crosswalk

    This is a poem for you. For how hard you ran When there were six seconds left On the crosswalk. The wind shifted And your scarf trailed behind You in the breeze. I wondered What you imagined yourself To look like, bright sun and breeze, Dressed in Soho black. Magic. Because you were strange And…

  • Sometimes

    Can you cry for the loss, for the way the words lay across my lips? Or celebrate the crossing of an idea into the air. What happens now, happens forever. So say what you mean, what you feel. Answer yourself before anyone else. Make sure you know the question. So cry or don’t, but be prepared…

  • Simple Song

    keep me close, write my name along the inside of your finger. swear we’re the same, sentiments you wrap in paper.   leave the smoke, leave the style. capture now and return to yes. flee the room, use your guile, soft and spare, the reasons why.   make me warm. be last to leave when…

  • Thankful wash

    We spill our bodies, breathless, into the beat Of the ocean. Choral salt. Land tapers. You can only regret what your hands Haven’t touched. But now that’s not true. Birds fly, a long stroke over the white line, Receding and returning. My hand cuts the water, But really I’m reaching for the world, Its birth.…

  • Break ups

    Believe it or don’t, but It may be over. The distance Between sighs is palpable And now I don’t know your hair color Or your thoughts on Natasha Lyonne’s new show. The strained Messages remind me Of deep caves that never Return sound to their messenger. If I am forlorn it may be because Sound…

  • End is nigh

    Wash me in ash culled from the river, The place where the burned trees gather. Hunt for the sun as it sets a bloody curtain Over the horizon. Grasp me fiercely As if I am careening toward the world’s Gaping maw. Make believe that tomorrow exists.

  • Where We Went

    Unwrap your teenage heart Like a chocolate dream. I miss the self that sings, the one that wraps string around her finger and waves. Lightening steps and electric belief was what we wanted and could never get. Not enough to satisfy. Rather, we became maudlin. Watched rises, stretches, untouched heartache, unmounted tenderness and lamented the…

  • Poem Up at High Shelf Press

    My poem, A Night’s Movement, is up at High Shelf Press. Find me alongside some really amazing artists and writers here.