dysphoria

the way you say
the things you don’t

carefully crafted
to disguise
parts of you in other realms,

it’s an alarming surprise
the way you reveal
your true self to me

leaves me empty
reduced to mysterious needs

i look away and say,
‘can’t we just talk poetry?’

in your flood

one step out the door
one step forward
one step closer
to the flood

one step backwards
one step in reverse
one step away
from drowning

a punch to the gut
and tears streaming,
more than the smiles
more than the ‘i love you’s

and how many more years like this
how much can i take like this

i agreed to ever after
but this now, these lows
i can do without
i barely survive the crash
before the next one arrives

give me time to breathe
give me time to survive
give me time in the clearing
before i drown
in your flood

Call It What It Is

Heatwaves radiating across the country,
common occurrences every summer
now occurring every season.

Summer stretches long into Fall,
makes a cameo during Winter
And begins earlier every Spring.

It’s a heatwave, they say.
No, it’s global warming.
No, it’s now called climate change, haven’t you heard?
No, that’s all fake news.
It’s only a heatwave, you see.

Varying heatwaves from place to place,
it’s unheard of in cities without air conditioning.
And now 130 recorded in the middle of Death Valley,
it’s a long streak of near-death experiences for everybody.

Sure, tell them it’s just another heatwave while our friends melt in the sweltering sun.
Tell them it’s only a heatwave when the final glaciers breakaway.
Tell them it’s only a heatwave, I’m sure they will soon believe.

Dear love

Dear love,
Thoughts of you the other day brought smiles. Today thoughts of you produced overrun swells in my eyes. The many years we’ve been separated, but how our hearts have always been close, how many more years will it be like this? Living in fantasy and memories all of the time is no way of living. The truth of what can never be, will I ever set these feelings free? This arrested state of bliss, of dreaming of our next kiss… and the pain of knowing that it may be a million years away. We’re so close yet always out of reach. I sit and dream of you, and wonder… will our dreams ever come true.

The Truth

This poem is pulled from snippets of Esteban Rodriguez’s poem, El Rio. These snippets pulled together brought out a truth that spoke to me. Check out his poem in Non.PlusLit.

ready to give up
what they knew they’d never be

aware what he believes in
will not always remain

and though you want to believe
when he tells you this
you find nothing when you look

each time you place yourself in the middle of it
and which you hope
if the time should come

Even in sleep
gazing
some nights
unsure if they’re signals
accidents
or warnings
if he does what awaits
or stay if his limbs grow numb
accept the nothingness
he prays he has the strength to wake up
he will be found and dragged to a place where you eventually
promise him to not suffer

unsure how you got here
or if any part of this is real
you find a man you believe
only he doesn’t remember you
or of the decades he spent
knowing as you know now
the path leading back
would not welcome his return

In the Dead of Winter

Image credit: Alex Markovich

These paths I walk all lead to snow
White embankments filled with fluff
Masking the truth underneath
Holding us back three feet deep

When will they release me
Keeping me here like a prisoner
Don’t they see I want out
The ground is frozen
I can’t move my fibers of life
Shake, shake me out of this frozen tundra
I’m itching for a new beginning


Listen to my poems on SoundCloud
This poem, along with others, can be found in my book Coffee Shop Sessions: Whatever It Takes, Even If It Doesn’t Take

Start with ‘Hello’

The daily pattern repeating
clicking here and there
looking for an update
or something I needed to say
except it’s gone too soon
like the fading of the day

The truth is there was a lot to say
countless conversations
despite they’re all in my head
I’ve said all that I’ve needed to
so now it’s out of the way

We’ve talked about the books we’ve read,
the music we’ve heard,
how our day has been,
and the inspiration for the latest poem

We’ve talked about the weather,
and our upcoming plans
we’ve talked under the stars and moon
we’ve talked when we first wake
and greeted each other with our longing hello’s

There’s so much that’s been said
nothing is left uncovered
except now I’m missing a reason
to say anything at all

Maybe I’ll start with ‘Hello…’

Our (Mis)Fortune

Your hand slips into mine,
the fortune teller notices
our smiles with glittering eyes
she’s convinced
there’s a future between us
she smiles & invites us in

Laying down cards one by one
it reveals the betrayal and secrets
that will keep us
from the love that has swept us into a whirlwind

We turn to each other stunned
but a laugh begins,
she replies, “Sorry, no refunds”

Words at Night

All the words to say
The sad ones
The lonely ones
The grateful ones
The mad ones
They circulate through you
But never leave your lips
Raging out onto paper
For all to read
But the ones closest to you
Will never see
Those words escape effortlessly

Words poured out late at night
And splayed across the light of day
Words that others will relate
And make others feel safe
That they too feel the same way
Words that will make you give ‘Thanks,
Thanks for today’

So use your words
Use them wisely
Share them with those you love
Share them with your friends and family
Share them with the world
Let them see
Just what you feel
Spark them with your electricity