how meticulously you counted the holes in the moon

how meticulously you counted
the holes in the moon
how you measured the crater
while between your eyes
the future burrowed
and as the eerie light gently fell
–strands and waves of silver–
on our skin, you shivered from
its ghostly touch and I
took you by the hand
to draw you closer,
to show you the beautiful pale secrets
strewn across the goddess of the night
were treasures that answered
your prayers, were answers
to the questions that you cast
the day before, a long time ago,
and just now in your mind
towards the embrace
of the stars
and the open sky


A Muffin’s Tragedy

I found this poem while digging through some old folders; I remember I wrote this in my creative writing class back in high school. Can’t believe I actually wrote a poem about a wrathful muffin…did some edits (Okay I basically rewrote it), but the tragic vision remains.

In its stomach shines a magnificent hatred,
a sizzling crimson light clouding
its warped bakery vision, which perceives
hunger like temperature rising

This is what doom tastes like,
crushed raisins, bleeding chocolate
and raspberry tears

This is what doom sounds like,
voracious fingers waltzing across the plate
desperate tremours vibrating down to its cakey core
clarion screams gnawed and trapped between
a wet tongue, rows of teeth, a throat

Drowning in its own soul
Down, down, down
Down the rabbit hole



There is a cactus in my throat


Words no longer belong to me.
They explode as they roll of my tongue.

You should stay away from me.
Stay away from the cactus in my throat;
A necklace of murderous thorns.

I can’t control it, you know.
My voice comes out in spikes and pricks.

I think I killed someone the other day;

A verbal spear right through the heart.
The blood makes me dizzy.

I’m sorry.

I should have it surgically removed.
Not that I haven’t tried before. Hey!

There is a cactus in my throat.

There is a cactus in my throat!

The Power of Love

Your smile, glazed

with lemon,

in the afternoon sun–

I am no longer afraid.

Let the storm clouds come.

For some reason the phrase “glazed with lemon” came to me while I was greedily devouring a lemon raspberry muffin. Somehow I connected it to a smile. But I couldn’t get past these few lines for some reason, so I think for now I will just leave it as it is. I was kind of heading towards a romantic poem, but then I was overflowing with conventional metaphors and images for romance and I just couldn’t bear to continue writing. I’m trying to break out of my style; try new things. The thing is I like writing abstract poetry rich in imagery, but I want to try writing poems that have a certain groundedness. More verbs. More visible, tangible movements. I’ve noticed that I’m a very “floaty” writer; half of the time I”m drifting all over the place. Maybe that’s just my style…but anyway. It’s good to try new things.

Oh dear look how much I babbled.