enjoy my work. i post what i write, what i see, and what it means to me. good or bad, comment away.



1)      You are a regatta in a rainstorm.
All thunderbolts and lifejackets,
you are hell-bent on capsize.
Hulls scream splinters in retort;
Poseidon nods his approval,
you strike worthy in his sight.
But no one cries out to him for aid.
Sometimes waves crest higher than your faith.

2)      My palms are rope-shredded and baby pink.
My fingertips are teeth-tattered, but can still
elicit tones beautiful from string.
Let me sing you complacent.
Calm your ragged breath,
hold your inhale a bit longer.
Fill your lungs to aching with this respite.

3)      An albatross glazes itself like fine pottery across the sky
leaving thirteen years of continuous flight
in his wing-beat-less wake.
He has seen storms like you before
but he long ago molted away his fear of you.
He knows to go over you now.
He knows that flying through you is a death sentence.

4)      The thing about the eye of the storm
is that it’s temporary. And you know
that when this harpy of a hurricane returns
it will be far more destructive than
prior winds could have prepared you for.
If the definition of insanity is repeating the same action and
expecting a different result, then why do I still expect answers
to prayers continually offered in various languages
when my sanity is all I have left.
Yet I continue with my mallet, repairing the gaps
in my storm-stretched framework as though it will make a difference.

5)      Blustering back as though you own
every ocean-bound vessel, your return
is an uneven firefight.
Your winds turn over graves still left
half-buried from your last trip through,
showing no mercy in your swath
of destruction. You target the weak seams first.
Lowering my sails serves to reduce the size of my bulls-eye hide
but your aim is pinpoint. Here’s to hoping
I still know how to shake a bogie.

6)      My father has been teaching me how to sail
since I can remember. We had lessons every Sunday.
His father never taught him much of anything,
so maybe that’s why it’s so hard to let go. 
I need to see him happy before myself.

7)      My shipwreck heart sinks like a sieve
every time I travel through your tempestuous weather.
Your winds blow fiercer than my boats can handle.
But there is enough wood at the bottom of my chest
to construct an armada and I’m still not afraid of your
bluster. You will not beat me. I will sail again.

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