Typhoon Feelings

feelings always hit me
like a typhoon
my emotions
are a natural disaster
glorious in their force

a minute of quiet rain
until the wind zips through
the corridor,
my jacket
storm exposure
I’m enraged
over a thing you said
fourteen months ago

Branches from the trees
we walked under a thousand times,
simply friends getting dinner,
line the street
Their bond to the trunk
with more ease than it took you
to write me off

My house shakes
each time I get close to shaking you
You’ll swoop in with the rain
but when?
It’s predictable how unpredictable
You’ll whisper in the gust of wind
that I’m sorry’s too high a price to pay
for walk to dinner under trees with me

What I notice about storms and pains
is I can’t do a thing to tame them
As I try to forget you
and the sun comes out again
and I’ve misplaced the rage
It hits me
Like sleek sheets of rainwater
This body survived gale force winds
and this heart will survive you


Welcome Mats


You are a welcome mat
You are a robin’s egg
A surprise to stumble on,
A sigh of content

A mountainside
A weeping willow
Strength and shade
In your vulnerable arms
I well up with pride
As I think of your peaks,
The strangers you have yet to comfort

Let’s bottle your brave
And sell it with the lemonade
Of our youthful endeavors
Long gone hopes of those once bright
Emerge at the well’s surface
Simply because you showed up,
A sparkler in July,
And tried.

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And other things that get away


Can’t quite pinpoint
Where the waves swelling in my head
Will crash
Isn’t that the way
With water
And other things that get away?

Barreled through my brick wall
And I loved you with every last ounce
An off-white phone cord tangled
On my forefinger, red dust settles
Begs to be swept
(I’m not in the rug business)
Didn’t it seem as if
Our boxing match was on the nightly news?

Sitting across a new table
Familiarity and novelty
They go off together
We blindly follow
Didn’t you kiss me in the street
And did I pause to give my trust?

Too often at the edge
And the edges of my lips
Turn up towards the lights floating
Over the deep and wide and black abyss
Should I give it all up to return to the time
You whispered in a room
That your ounces loved me back
But yelled in a courtyard instead?

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your attention, please

are you ever struck by beauty head on?
a sharp break in, an almost “you’re joking”

those moments, these petals
tug at your sleeve
see how the colors overtake
the questions your hurried mind keeps in stock?

your attention, please
let the minutes you were tracking fade sweetly
into melodies of leaves in northwestern breezes

her beauty billows above her
like a pillar of fire
but you grow grumpy in your self-constructed desert
do you not smell the smoke?
do you deserve pity for selective sight?

Hateful Past Tense


I move to express a thing about your fierce love, or your fancy for fish
the tension rises
those tenses rising
to mock me
I move to cut it
the knife breaks on the past
far from perfect

Do I gently remind myself
that your phone no longer rings?
Do I shove my face into the ice water
of your empty chair?
Or maybe just this once
I can allow myself to forget
if only for a moment
I can hear your chuckle
I say you are

Seemingly simple
He was
such a small shift in gear
But I don’t drive shift
the car stalls.

Many moments
I can’t bring myself to say it
How dare I say
you were
when you are
so large in my head?


“but let me remind you of the demolitions I rebuilt into mansions.”

I can’t be in the dregs
for too long
redemption nips at my heels

by a past
sweetly wary of the renewal
a child
that loves you by startling you
a incredulous moment
that feels too much like a dream

once upon some time ago
imagine couldn’t stretch
I’m brought in
by waves of peace
with the names
that once brought paralysis

How can I praise
such a creative Redeemer
He finds nooks and crannies
of insecurity
clears out cobwebs
builds me the cozy corner
I curl up with a good book
of a new world
one in which
those I most dreaded
become my daily companions

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Off to an Unknown Somewhere 

Reminded of a million scenes
Yet marinating in new novelty

Pastel houses of a Bermudan paradise
Painted darker, and brighter

Limeade colored hillsides
Of a Honduran forest

Flashback to piling out of the bus
At the bottom of the steep hill
Streams beneath my sandalled toes
We pushed

Dirt roads to diners
Like my rural Mexican heartbeat
Searching for the boys on the trampoline

Northern mountain drives
With palms instead of pines

Fronds don’t fall
In a wicked straight line
These natives sprout out wherever they choose

A new language
In familiar territory
You mean to tell me
I’m not in route to the mountain cabin
Of tears in the laundry room
And laughter on the rickety fence?

Expecting to turn the corner
To where we parked off the road
Hidden until curfew

Red earth holds my attention
You’re not something I’ve yet to see
Lime green sprouts
a complimentary helpmeet

They say these forests
Have bandits
How could the trees hold such danger
To me
They only hold stolen breaths