Posts for June 18, 2019


Every day is Father’s Day

What’s the cost
of the salve

to stop
the ache

every conversation
a remembering

your remaining
physical presence

reflected in
my mirror


another day about being in a car

hatchet back these hatchback days,
vined and clotted up with vetch.
crop down these crop-up weeds,
these sorrels, these torrid-rain-soaked greens.
my car is black and scarred,
and my back is wracked too far
rom sitting on my ass all day.
the primroses are pink now, and the coneflowers are calling me
out past the clover,
‘see something’ for once
from behind that seat, behind that steering seal.


Rainy Days

the moons swollen
in this torrent
and we are weary
our bones soaked 
souls waterlogged
everything is heavier
and they’re all leaving
making it even worse


The Drop

The drop 
grows deeper
each day

at some point 
I must jump
to a perpetual fall
hit the ground 
far sooner 
than anticipated

we’ll see 
if it was worth it
after surveying
the damage



Peanut butter on a spoon

Will be in my tummy soon

Add in some chocolate chips

Yea, going straight to my hips


After the rain

Fireflies are winking
as the moon peeks behind clouds
the air glistening


Maybe Next Life

My girlfriend shows me the Little Mermaid
tennis shoes on Etsy
and my heart aches.
The type of thing I could never wear in public.
Only in private.
At friends’ houses,
Pride festivals,
certain conferences,
safe spaces.
Like nail polish,
they’re such a harmless thing
that brings so much joy.
I hate my tiny world so much.
In my next life, I want to be
a genetic girl.
My bucket list for her is becoming rather long.
And so the cycle goes.
Is anyone’s life one’s own?


With Love From Harlan

A truck heavy with coal,
Struggles up the incline.
Left turn signal blinks,
Says, “It’s safe to pass.”  

Elk crossing, fallen rocks,
ATV on the highway.
No four-lane road,
Comes in or out.  

Even in a town
Called Lynch,
Everything is equal
Down in the mines.


The End

It’s almost over.
Wings wake me
on the side porch
out at mom and dad’s.
I can see it coming.
Sipping coffee
escaping the Darth Vader 
sounds of the machine
helping him to breathe.
He is my father.
Last farm on this road,
the ends of my earth.
Swallows swoop 
over the pond 
and life goes on
but how?


maybe one day

stomach hurts, body’s tired

feeling impatient–something’s yearning.
I rival the day, and bow to this body
of stars. there was this one time
whilst stuck in a forest
that I thought I would find something great
but no temples built there
instead just a field of grass