If life is a lucid dream or some near-perfect
computer simulation, do I risk waking up
to a world in which I can’t embrace you?
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A Love Sonnet Written on the Occasion of the Death of Ruth Bader Ginsburg
September 19, 2020
I want to touch what aches in us, the light
we guard to stay alive. My dear, come quick.
I hear a knock; I’m afraid. Is it you?
I dare to open and let hope come through.
Confessions of a Private Grief
September 6, 2020
I have lived as free as a fragrance on the wind,
as shackled to the earth as the vine that produced it.
May I confess in a poem what is forbidden us in prose?
Helium
May 29, 2020
The last thing he saw was the joy in her eyes.
Back home the flowers have wilted and the balloon,
twisting slowly in the now-stale air,
sinks lower and lower to the ground.
Self-Made Man
May 24, 2020
I hire the police that protect my home from the hordes
that would tax me: I need nothing from the State, and so
give nothing to the State.
The Beauty of Bipolar Depression
May 23, 2020
Peel back my eyes
and touch the still-healing wound
oozing cerebral fluid from the Big Bang.
It’s in this blind space of raw pain
I often dwell.
I just read that the virus is mutating, anti-vaxxers are joining other unsavory elements to protest public health measures, the president doesn’t see the need for mass testing but is now getting tested daily…
Will We Stand for This?
December 13, 2019
I want to rest on the shore
until the urchins break skin
and the salt seeps in.
Be Wary of Sadness in Dark Times
November 23, 2019
I notice my parents’ aging as I do my own:
Not at all, then in a photo, all at once.
What of the Future?
August 30, 2019
I’ve been hearing Save the Rainforest
since I was small enough to sleep
in the safety of my parent’s bed
or snuggled with stuffed animals—
pandas, giraffes, monkeys, frogs;