I found the bridge in Saint-Michel,
laden with lovers’ prayers,
that bears the weight of wishers-well
and ageing love affairs

I dropped your key over the side
and watched it sink into
the churning of the heavy tide,
and vanish in the blue

My eyes thought it the greater sin
to leave the glitt’ring bars,
so they clung to you within
that multitude of stars

But when I lost you in the throng
the spires began to knell,
and chimed my secret all along
the banks of Saint-Michel

It followed me along the lane
down to the underground,
and with the rattling of the train
it echoed all around

I clasped my key within my hand
as though I held your own,
and passing through the subway stand
I bore it heavy home-

knowing that my heartache slept,
secured by lock and key;
a smarting secret quiet kept
by silent Seine, and me.



I have no choice but to believe,
or my heart will stop ticking:

a clock run by the grinding gears of the universe,
the world a windmill where
the horizon rolls by-
my cogs are turned in unison
with the winding of the stars

Hope is God’s cruelest creation,
because we pick it up in spite of ourselves-
helpless to its fire,
burning through worlds without
remembering why;
the spark of fuel setting fire
to the tails of our rockets

and you, who
spun me ’round the planets on your
forgotten wings,
frown to see me wheel
across the sky

Galway Gone

In Galway gone, an age ago
where crumbling stones did meet the sea,
I walked where lonely mists did blow,
and in the shadows found I thee

Cathedral bells in darkness rung
and echoed down the slick night street;
no friendly footsteps on stones sung
among the kiss of falling sleep

But in my cold and naked palm
which scraped upon the mossy stones,
I felt the whisper of your psalm-
in empty hand, I held your own


When You Can’t Fix- Commiserate.

Quitting - Dialogue.jpg


Sonnet the Third

If I could change the sprawling heavens’ face
or lend a thread unto the fated three,
I’d weave new stars into the night’s embrace,
and happ’ly knit together thee and me.
If I could rend this ever turning sphere,
collapse it like a ship within a jar,
I’d build a bridge between our “there” and “here”,
and be forever near to where you are.
How lucky is the newborn morning sky
to be within your eyes when you awake-
how lucky too the spreading stars on high
to hear your prayer, as prayers’ effect you take.
For though in these same skies, the same stars rule
they are not mine- ‘tis I that am their fool.



I used to wonder what made a girl
just right,
as though rightness could be bought
with the groceries-
ingredients in a cookie,
wheeled home in a
metal cart

You shop for girls like a
suit jacket;
this one for lunch, this for dinner and
another, for dancing
weighing pieces of her
like steak

Continue reading “Goldilocks”


The List


  1. They think Lee Harvey Oswald was trying to kill Governor Connally instead- did I ever show you the musical about this? It doesn’t have James Franco, though. Sorry.
  2. There’s an Ugly Christmas Sweater with the alphabet lights from Stranger Things; I also started liking it right after that episode. Probably should have mentioned it earlier.
  3. My cousin is a Surprise Republican, which my dad absolutely loves, even though he didn’t vote third party. I have to put a Cessation for Peace on political discussion in this house, however. For all of our sakes.
  4. I started making lists again, not parceling my words this time so much as putting them somewhere, anywhere, besides that little white box and pressing send.
  5. The things I’m trying not to say are building tally marks on the inside of my eyelids
  6. It’s so much worse to remember happiness, than to remember pain

Things I Have Done

img_1749I covered my eyes to see you better,
covered my mouth to
keep a peace-
unrolled understanding like
a carpet on your stones,
kissing corners just to bring in
a little light

I risked my shame for greatness,
hoping you would do the same-
I wrote you in songs, and stories and poems to keep
your sacred silence in tact

Continue reading “Things I Have Done”



Time is a rubber band
stretching this way and that-
thin and small, then
thickly unbreakable
wrapping tighter around
my accusatory finger

Alone, and time is slow;
altogether too much of it stretches
ions into tomorrow
when I should, I should, I should
be doing (getting)
better, like it was something
you could catch:
a recipe, a derelict,
making contracts with myself
a lifetime of construction Continue reading “Relativity”


The Best (and Worst)

The best parts about each other
are the things we’re not supposed to be;
soft and squishy skin, hungry at midnight,
sneaking into the second movie and
laughing in Church

The best part is that
crook in your neck I’m sure
you’ve never seen
(your own heartbeat
you’ve never heard)
Leaving the party early, getting drunk
on a Tuesday-
inappropriate jokes and
even worse timing Continue reading “The Best (and Worst)”