Poetry

I have a pet named Habit who has paws like a bear, a bear made of humming strips of honey, paws with

I lay in bed till the microfiber threads wove their way into my veins. I played dead curled up roly

Back then I thought everything needed a heart:the dots over the two little i’s in my name;the lids

determine my age based on my isotopic decay, the half-lives in which i’ve contracted resulting in

Tonight, the brisk nighttime winds  and the shrinking sliver of a moon signal  the unwelcome arriv

We’re spinning spinning spinning legs faces bodies bouncing up and down hips shaking now the rhyth

For Ireland’s Home BabiesBased on the exhibition (A)Dressing our Hidden Truths by Alison Lowry loc

After Unclouded Day   I find the hidden place in the wildflowers where the wind sighs down from the

there are times such that i want to hold the world in my palm as gentle as if made of glass or babie

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