a brittle back
a restless heart
a race to see
which falls apart



before i leave for work,
i weave a cocoon
for my story

i tuck it in a quiet corner
a place forgotten by cats and dust
where it can grow

when i come home at night
i carry it softly to bed
and regurgitate the sun

into its mouth

last minute

Coat check shift from hell
Haven’t written today’s poem
Oh, look, a haiku


i dread becoming a chair
but my teacher insists.
a tree, a crow, a cow, a cat-
just not a chair.

he demands.

i invent a fury and i give it a home in my thighs
he whispers by my ear
“you are making yourself miserable”

yes, well.

rarely have I known any better

This site is moving-

Hi! Do you like my poems? I will be posting more of them along with prose (both fiction and non-) at this website moving forward:


If you have a Tumblr account, follow me!




not that i am eager
for the reaper’s scythe
to cross the paths of
me and mine

but i have eulogized you,
one and all.

it is a game i play
when rocking back and forth
in subway cribs
or laying in the comfort
of a darkened

(the chapel overflows,
weeping masses pressed into the
doorways, clamoring to mourn
and I! –
I. Am. Speaking.
summoning the grief of
legions out into the
stale, holy air.
my eloquence is

and then i return
to the moment – the F train
or my kitten’s purr or some
conversation that has
faded to a blur
and find
my eyes are wet
my fingers trembling

I know what it will be
to lose you

when you die
my magnum opus will be
ready, waiting.

though i don’t suppose
you’ll be around
to hear it.


around 44th street
the voice came down
over the bus PA-
i could have sworn
it was Mrs. Hadley,
my third grade teacher
with the outsized

“assaulting an MTA Employee is a felony”

you could hear the ruler
in her hands.
so eager.

as if we were all monsters
as if each of us
was giving serious
to bludgeoning
that beaten-down wheel-spinner,
our charioteer.

as if we needed
to be reminded
that we were animals.

why not play
the sound of
screeching chimpanzees

i didn’t board this bus
to be admonished,
i was just trying to get
to the Upper East Side.

dry cleaning, briefcases
guilt and regret
we all have our burdens

lay your fears down
somewhere else

our hands are heavy as it is