Latest Poems

Cutting Down the Zinnias

Cutting Down the Zinnias

The time has come to fell the flowers; it’s autumn now, the summer’s bounty waning. Outside I go, in the late morning hours, to do the deed, a buoyant manner feigning. Butterfly and bee fulfill their merry task of going back and forth between each bloom. Do they see me? If so, they do not ask whether I come to bring the garden’s doom.

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The Door

The Door

With the remnants of my meager strength I slowly stand, turning the door handle, one thought guiding my shaking hand: The least I can do is know it all.

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Burn Me

Burn Me

Smoke rises around me, steals my breath, and I can’t see. The life I’ve built is caving in; with bleeding lungs I let You in.

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Never Enough

Never Enough

Never enough. Never enough. I am glory and disgrace. I’m tripping up at the end of the race. I’m a misspelled card, a hung-up phone. I’m always knowing and never known.

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Dear Extrovert

Dear Extrovert

Poetry is written for the quiet ones, the soulful ones, the ones who let thoughts tangle in their throats before they ever get tangled in their hair. Poetry is written for the soft ones, the shy ones, the ones who dance in midnight shadows and sip on moonlight tea.

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