short poems about life and love

“love” was an instrument expertly used to sustain her illusion of comme ça – inducing forgetfulness about perpetual abuse, or to gaslight...

is a mirror more than silvered glass? and whose face appears within the glass? the hurricane lamp’s flame flickers, black oily smoke...

i. Without warning the sky can fall in neat needle-stitched rows, precisely spaced and GPS guided to obliterate terrain older than memory...

I imagine every town has that road you cruise with your best friend, the tunes cranked loud on the radio heading to...

i. my dad always said that your mind doesn’t age, and then one day an old man stares back at you from...

i thought of you today while driving north on highway four-forty-one… green trees a blur past open windows, the radio blasting “paint...

there is beauty in forgetfulness. of letting the past slip like ashes to the floor as you venture into an uncharted future...

we talk about the past as if polaroids don’t fade or go missing from old shoeboxes left in a hall closet. but...