From My Poetry


Letting Go

The space between faith and failing—as fragile as my grandmother’s slip– I see those two don’t exist as I had thought they did. After waking– as if from a cave and floating out into an inlet in an ocean, left for dead– your eyes need months to adjust, your breathing needs to steady, you can’t…



I just wanted to share with you all that my racy little essay is getting published by Mad Hatter’s Review! I’ll share when it’s up!


…for Erica

and chasing trains,
the smell of the tracks
beneath that one rainbow
who the hell can see forever

I think of you,
I respond to your letters,
I picture you across
the ocean, painting houses
to get by on your trek across
the continent with your love.
I picture you gardening–
maybe Mexican Paintbrush?
soil and seeds in your hands—hands
I’ve held while leaping into
unknown waters, our handshake.

I read your search for yourself,
and your courage to find it,
You were always fearless.
It wasn’t the world that
frightened you.
That was a thing we
had in common but didn’t know it—
what frightened us
was ourselves.
In dark corners across the globe
facing down hell
in shacks and hospitals
I read your eloquent graffiti
you wrote in a rush,
and I was there hovering
over your breaking heart
as you held mine

I heard from someone
you’re still beautiful

See, you started living
from the outside in—
you grabbed that great big
old world in your arms
squeezing it until you hugged
only yourself

Publication Alert

A thank you to Boston Poetry Magazine for publishing my two poems “Stitchings” and “Undercurrent” –much love!

She’s Come Undone

It is a sunny afternoon, the light coming in yellow through her curtains that cut through the smoke. Cat Stevens feels like water inside my soul and then she switches it to Bread and hands me a dust rag. I dance across the green and brown carpet squares; I wipe the hazy walls, the stiff…


A Trauma Theory

It was my third year in college when I first heard the term string theory. I remember moving forward into what he’d say next, and as the professor strolled over quantum physics and how this theory could explain all the forces of nature— what it could reveal, the dark mysteries it could possess— I know…


The Creative Psyche: Carl Jung and the Unconscious Mind

While doing the reading for Week 4, something became clear to me. This was all going way over my head. Carl Jung had some heavy theories about Creativity and the psyche, injected with concepts about the imagination and the human consciousness. Some additional research would be needed to fully understand Jung’s intricate models of the…


EB-125 I think I’m seeing white birds white birds scattering away from my window, out there in the cold January, their wings sound, from here, like sheets– my grandmother’s white sheets– on the line in June. The light coming in is white. Color? Or space? Like the space we can never fill. Like the start…

Madden Me Back

I have lost the need to be someone. It’s strange that when You have one piece left of so many selves And it breaks, shattering your familiar reflection, You–annihilated in the howling– and a certain amount of time will stop mattering as it goes on, and You pool into something–a fine new liquid– black beneath…

dVerse Poem

Share your poetry and creativity over at Dverse Poets Pub.  I am basing my poem off of a drawing I’ve been working on. Stitches You’re in my ribcage I turn my love to wreck it let you gather up the pieces and I watch you fall from my fists where I held you hard and close because what is the difference anyway between madness and hunger I want you to walk up and bite me stick your words inside me and twist them all around cover up my mouth make my mind unable to find my will