1 am


rest my head
on my pillow
and peer
out the window
last night,
the moon
looked exactly
the same
but the
day wasn’t
I wasn’t
the same
and a year
from now
the moon
will look
the same
so I guess
we are just
fleeting moments
in this galaxy
split seconds
of existence
long and taxing
for us
but a mere blink
for the universe
so if I am
a tiny speck
if the world
is a platter
and we are
just one taste
I wish to
not let it
go to waste.




They will try to clip your wings,
Run as fast as you can.
Like clockwork
they’ll present themselves.
One at the intersection,
Two at the highway.
Their skeletons will
come after you.
They will attempt
To mangle your bones.
Run as fast as your
Feet can take you.
Lock the doors,
But let the windows stay open.
Take the beaten path.
Or follow the one,
That your heart
Takes you to.
And run as fast
As you can.
And when you do,
you won’t even realize.
That in a heartbeat,
you’ll be leaping.
They’ll crawl the earth,
And you’ll soar in the sky.
So even if they come,
do not bat an eye.


Things turn around
and your face looks
like a stranger’s
and no,
I cannot fathom that the
words slipping off your
tongue are yours.
And the way your
mouth curls into
a smile, a phantom
of what it used to be.
But things turn around
and people grow old
and older, until
we are nothing but
mutual friends,
being introduced to
ourselves in
the mirror,
once again.



we cannot succumb,
we cannot give in.
get up and do
what you’re meant
to be doing.
hate will keep
brewing like
an unwanted
storm in the
bones of those
those untouched
by humanity.
but if your heart
aches and your
heart beats,
get up and do
what you’re meant
to be doing
be a lover.
and choose kindness,
choose compassion.
think of those
without whose
smile you wouldn’t
make it here
and be that smile
for everyone
and no matter
don’t be an accomplice,
or fall prey
to the hands of hate.
choose love,

A poet.


I carry whole worlds
inside of me.
They echo and rattle
my bones and brew
in me like a potion
only I’ll ever know
till I pick up a pen
and let the magic
that’s singing
and humming
spill out in whirls
and rhymes till
I’m dried out
and you know
the taste.
Till new worlds
and new words
beckon me to
play scrabble again.

Happy World Poetry Day!

False Advertising

Oh, January.
I waited and waited
For you because
New year, new me
But you’re false advertising.
You’re an average product
In fancy packaging.
Because the instructions
Read a good night’s sleep
On the 31st means
Come morning,
A guaranteed twist
Of fate and destiny.
All my bad habits gone,
Good ones followed dutifully.
Yet mid January,
Here I am
The same old me.



from the bottom up

ground to the hilt

cemented with

every person I’ve

ever been

painted in blues

and greens and yellows

and pinks

from my dawns and

dusks and twilights

and even my darkest nights

a garden in the front

an evergreen tree

right where my

heart lies

skin like unbreakable

glass stuck to bones

made with words

and letters

thought and spoken

and heard and borrowed

front door where

my lips would be

only sweet things

leaving the building

ground to the hilt

photo frames

where I scraped my knees

french windows

eyes to see

reinventing to become

a safe haven

a temple

just for me.