Don’t Worry


One, twice
My children –not mine
Caper in rhythm,
A strange and muffled pound

Once, two
Girls – not mine
Silently barrel down the hill,
Careful not to wake
Their dear sick mother

One, twice
I told them to be careful
Of the unseen wind
Carrying many things of the world – but not mine

Once, two
White baneberries watch themselves wilt
Over time – not ever mine
And so the children stand permanently

Once, two
Beats tightly embrace the cold
Do you hear their laughter?
Shaky underneath it all




As far as endings go

I have not had much closure

with those


I don’t let go. I’m a barnacle

stuck to the sharp end of the boat,

who does not know it is

at the edge of

a big thing.


Headstones white, in a green

cemetery, look like white daisies sprinkled

on. She said there were observable differences

found in the mass field,

but these thousands of heads(tones)

were all the same;

names repeat

numbers are just patterns.

Death turns us all the same, I said.


When she turned her eyes at me,

they ran me

through like electricity,

swimming through water,

unable to find the

next big thing

to latch on to.

The Dead to Life


I look down on you


you kill.

I look down on you


you condemn.

I look down on myself


my clueless ways

The number of ways to hurt


keeps growing

like a fungus in humid air

I can’t keep wishing

for that day

they’ll realize their

perversity is foul

No attack is misguided

its target

will always hurt in

its dying

I look down on you


I did not


I look down on you


even when you have the power to kill

you          can’t  bring               the dead to life