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poems & snippets

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(c.2017 - 2022) Poems from this series were all originally worked onto the same copy of a thrifted novel in the form of blackout poetry. these usually become the bones of larger poems, but sometimes I leave them as-is. scans of the original poems/paintings currently can be found here.

*note: many of these are in a scroll box, especially if marked with ⛅.

(background image is a screenshot from my ACNH island)

* * *

but, boy,

I’d rather be you

than any other man.

* * *


to the side where the gravel scatters

my circular sodden letters

ink that misspelled, ambling pleasure

how long they’d sat I didn’t care

⛅ crow & his pulpit

once we were

a crow and his pulpit

a seagull from any saltwater quorum

the garish whistling

how could we listen?

we skim the surface

like a phantom moving through

I have fallen asleep in

places warmed, other bodies I knew

dreaming of what?

of nothing but.

⛅ held on

he held on for a long time
they touched
and laughed
and smoked
watch the stars poke through a strange you
and we saw it, too,
rose-sharp and gleaming

I think I’ll be afraid
we all knew
I can’t help falling in love with you

strangers clad in our voices
echoing into my infinite

the song ended
but I did not let go 

praise for a gun-busted heart
welcoming the lonesome mystery of love and betrayal
the brutal author ripped my heart out

silver linings pull 
important things

how hard it is
to know what that means 

⛅ difficult

It is difficult to know the truth
But I am sincerely grateful that you are
Already trying to pull the trigger
So don’t worry about that.

I didn’t expect it to come calling
To follow me around
All I knew was that I

an unswerving and compelling
iteration of love;
a soaring chorus of
“please (don’t) come back.”
listen- listen to the unforgettable longing
the gravity of home

this character
will stay with you for a while
irresistible, old, new, lost and found
what a small-town lovesong
it’s honesty replaced by irony.
but once in a while
its nice to get your eyes wet
to a nostalgic tune.


I never heard of a good deed
worth a goddamn check.

he drank fast, eyes wet.
after all,
we all stood underneath the
sunflower seeds
listening to the rickety metal rain

and tried to imagine
love for

each of us,

just scraping by,


⛅ look.

why come back? what for?
we were apart from everything we’d ever known, and yet
in love with it all. in love with being
inside a loop

Look. Look at who I am now.
I came back.
I’m the only one climbing those sunrises.

Look. I’m the only one

. . . 
. . . .

I didn’t answer him in a deadpan voice
take a look
the lights of the river used to tell us

do you remember that?

do you remember?

I was afraid to admit it

the last time you looked 

I’m confused, are you

are you okay?

look out on
sumac and pine and gray and blue sky

why haven’t i

spent one hundred years kissing her?

I still remember

a pause cradled in her hand 

⛅ semaphores

be something?

my long, long drive

a canopy of cool outside

I’ve always liked to feel

closer to the beyond

I need to get out there, I thought.

. . .

I set the chain

of black and blue

rainwater aimed

their semaphores

sent them away

⛅ never

time fusing like

late night afternoons

eighty, ninety years

of being marooned

I was never in love with

any other thing

seasons unspool

both hands in his pockets

billowing fields and fires and sandhill cranes

and all the other myriads come loud

and then you think maybe winter

never will again 

Anyway, there was shit to do.
I couldn’t tell you how,
but at last
I have chosen to live

⛅ catch your breath

screen doors and shadows over

cool dewy dawns

gas station coffee

of bugs and moths and wives

and backyard breezes dry as paper

and the soil turned over

our world underneath

hallucinogenic confetti

now looking like old people

in bed, playing chess with knives

stand still,

catch your breath out there 

⛅ drive west

If he’d let me, I’d sink

my acres of orange

and drive west

everything abandoned

my whole life I’ve been


sirens and something

making me listen

(Where are you?

at least halfway in love

even before we started falling apart)

the snow, the snow

tombstone and baritone

telling us things our own


just the same

the fickle rain

might have been

nostalgia, he explained

it’s six-story shadows like

passing trains

overgrown with darkness

as we shot away 

⛅ afraid


afraid of my jaws clenching on what was coming

on the porcelain of the before

not wisconsin, not new york, but someplace I knew

It feels like forever

I said, “I’m totally fucking confused.”

we don’t sleep gently

I took her hand a little less firmly.

maybe I don't

know my own body.

⛅ home

I hailed the night air

at a thirty-degree angle

don’t worry about staying wordless

soon home flashed by

invisible to me just then

compressing gently

when we kissed

what ruins of us, now

and too many reasons to leave.

to leave your door open and believe

is that you?

hardly together

sitting at a picnic table

so easily, it seems,

doing exactly what he wants to be doing. out there. 

Older Poems

Most of these were written in high school, but they span from ages 14 to 21.


it is the desire to understand
terrific remnants linger in our unassuming path
striving to the greater scheme
in their hearts

⛅ city whispered hymns

fin c.2014
i blew in from the east, i was autumn leaves
and there the city whispered hymns to me
the mountains to our west were the bottoms of the sea
we tried to cast an anchor at their salty peaks
but the tether always seemed to ravel free

they cut short the horizon
made us a bed at the bottom of the greatest basin
but we were raised among pines with narrower skies
and our hearts wilt out in the open

all we wanted was a place to call home
to stitch these singing wounds from being alone
another hand decides who stays and who goes
if we’d ever had a shot, would we still be full of holes?

the spiritual seekers - do they linger? after lovers leave?
hiding in the hollows where the smoke-swelled poets preach
who would check for an SOS in the patterns of a moth’s wing?
we build new cocoons around these old miseries
and just go back to sleep

but even in this dream, we never leave
believing oily puddles are as pretty as the sea
or that no one cares what happens to me

can i get a breeze in here? i might be fine
another day inside this place
but we’re already buried inside

we watch prairie dogs and golden grasses thrive
but we’re invasive species, no one asks for us alive

terrific remnants linger in our unassuming path
i’m no longer certain what i’d give to heal the past

just try to remember that
deserts have formed
and dissolved
over thousands of years

and so have you.

here will be a desert
where a forest grew
(and deserts can be plentiful, too)

go back

i wish i could write again
write the words we used to be friends.
now all i know is
coffee, can
stay awake and stain my
ink is on the table
my feet were in the
someplace else and someplace else
when i had words for what i felt
the small of your back and
the sound
your knuckles crack.
but i only want to move
so i guess i can’t go back.

⛅ sharp.

for once the sky looks like something tangible
white lined paper fringies soft drink stains
the edges are rounded like a page torn from up
a mistake like ones i’ve made

if only it were that easy.

lots of things come unstuck like that, lately
i watch him go about daily things in
slow motion.

my mind
takes off on vacation
my heart
has a mind of it’s own.

unlike drowning,
logic is
for a time.

city sky

the color orange follows me, waywardly, home
in the form of yellow-paged streetlights
the standard issue, steelgray city sky.
thoughts race my head back, hanging out
of the back of my skull, across these
curling streets and past shedding trees.

I have one thought left swinging in my chest
as this winter draws herself up close
remind me that it’s time to be cold.

i cannot turn inside out, or find my hands
to hide my face, so i can’t breathe or see;
to stifle stillborn christmas trees.

tapping ratty soles against the bottom of
the driver’s seat; the sound of my Chucks
will always sing the past back to me.