A Bleeding Heart

It’s getting late and we’re dying to find out
what’s fated us here tonight.

You dare to ask what I’ve done, where I’ve been,
I’ll tell you more than you’d want to know
so let’s start this off slow.

The truth can be a dangerous thing;
you can’t unhear it once the stories have cleared.

I’ve held the hammer to a bludgeoned heart,
been the reason love and light broke apart.

I’ve danced across graves at night,
celebrated the taste of freedom that was mine.

I’ve destroyed many with a single look
then let go of ’em before they could sink their hooks.

I’ve lived through it all with eyes glued to the sky,
as a witness without remorse, only living on the outside.

With a heart paralyzed and surrounded by flames,
I curated multiple tragedies as cupid’s arrow took aim.

With hearts discarded,
I’ve since repented and paid the price
of these words and actions of a former life.

My dear, on this night with you I promise-
my pounding heart is now yours. If you’ll take it,
please don’t open the glovebox where there lies a knife.

Pilgrimage to the Motherland

City Lights Books, San Francisco, CA – 2019

Standing in the presence of history
Witness all that has come before
Bewildered in amazement
What a glorious sight!

Speak to me, my wise old poets,
Speak to me while I stand here where it all began,
Feed me your recipes
Gathering in the Poetry Room
Circling around the Poet’s chair
Cozied up in the corner…

This is where I belong
These are my people
This is my truth


Listen to my poems on SoundCloud
This poem, along with others, can be found in my book Coffee Shop Sessions II: Moving Mountains One by One