Works of verse

Sink, To

Thirty-five miles until we

reached the exit, the sign read, that has

meant Christmas to me

since I was six.

So I tried to sink back

into my seat, discovering, though,

that once you have sunken

all the way, you have to

sit up again, surface for air, and wait

a time until you can sink


In a green minivan flashing by

a girl looked skyward as she

sat silent with her headphones.

How far was she

from her exit?


The driveway was smooth black as

we pulled in, glistening with melted

flurries as we left.

Back on the highway, swimming

with the red glow, watching the white light

flowing against us.

Trying to sink, heading home.


Would it be wrong

to run

among these marching masses

to sing and laugh

at nervous floundering hands

on sweat-stained plastic leather

to sigh and say

I don’t have to keep a grimace?


Would it be wrong

to cry

and grow to great dimensions

small enough to creep beneath a door

instead of knocking?


Would it be wrong

to grasp hold of the telephone

and scream

in answer to its scream

and force a question

no one wants to hear?


Would it be wrong

to shake Pandora’s hand

and fly

only to return with tales

astounding with originality?

Mamma Says

My mamma’s always talking about her friend Mark,

the man she calls her soul mate.

She said they were two of a kind, the type of people just looking for someone

to talk to.

She said his hair was brown

and his eyes were blue

and if you looked just right you could see the person he was inside.

(a dreamer and a thinker)

Mamma’s eyes get misty when she smells Marlboro cigarettes

“they smell like Mark” she says “smoke and CK One”

Sometimes when the TV doesn’t work or the lights go out Mamma tells me

stories about Mark and the things they used to do.

Just when she’s about to start her nose wrinkles and her eyes twinkle

and you know she means what she says because the tears always gather on her

cheeks and she never bothers to brush them away.

(like when she watches TV)

“There are some people you’ll always love” she tells me “and there are others

you know you’re supposed to—it’s a shame the people you always love aren’t

the people you’re supposed to.

It was raining last Sunday when I found mamma crying

she didn’t brush the tears away

I knew,

I knew it was about Mark

Mamma said that Mark had to go

I didn’t ask when he was coming back

I knew,

I knew he was dead

(Mamma’s world came crashing down)

So I waited for Mamma to tell me stories

like she always did before

And just a day ago the breeze brought the smell of Marlboro cigarettes into

our yard

And finally Mamma’s eyes twinkled and her nose wrinkled

and tears came to her eyes.

Mamma says she’ll always love Mark

(I know she’s supposed to)


You own me

my world

my night and day

every crevice of the mind

you control my destiny

my past and my present

you are my every breath

my life and death

you own me

far beyond love or desire

you own my soul

do with it as you will.


Every single one of us

Has an island of our own.

Trapped and racked by storms,

Each one stands alone.


We sometimes hear soft whispers

Guided to us on the breeze,

Across the empty spaces,

And across the deep blue seas.


And so we tell ourselves

That we are not alone,

That there are others out there

On islands of their own.


So our eyes scan the horizon

For any sign of life at all,

But the sea remains a barrier,

A never-bending wall.


We may brush with others,

As long or briefly as may be.

But all of us, in truth, we are

Divided by a raging sea.


There is no boat, no raft, no ship,

Strong enough to pass by here.

The winds are too strong and too rough,

And so we remain trapped by fear.


We have not the courage

To leave all that we know.

There are no sails to draw us on,

And it’s much too far to row.


And so every single one of us

Remains on a island of our own.

Trapped by fear of what is different,

And ultimately alone.

The Razor

Sitting in the corner of this thing called life

she slowly lets her tears sink through the

dirty and rusted tiles like a knife.

The tiles that once felt comforting against

her innocent and youthful skin, now eat

away at her flesh like the acid she once

used to make the pain subside.

After this, she knows there will be nothing left to hide.


A grotesque dagger has flown right into the

middle of her already shattered heart.

There lies on the bathroom sink, only a few

inches from her, a welcoming salvation.

“There could be nothing worse,” she whispers,

“than this damnation.”


An hour has passed, yet the tears continue

to seep through her snow-white skin.

The reflection before her is disgusting and

it motivates more tears to cascade.

This is her last resort, for she has already

wasted her time and prayed.


She finally picks up the gleaming razor that

will end her internal suffering.

Slowly, she presses it against the blue vein

that is filled with anger, rage, and hate.

Inside, an ounce of hope wonders if it is too late.


A moment flies by and she hesitates.

The razor seems possessed as it glides

along, releasing all her anguish.

Those bottled-up emotions are now all

over the bathroom floor, waiting for the

people who never cared to come clean it

and feel the pain she felt for so long.

She begins to question whether this was wrong.


Her dimming eyes glance toward the pain

that has left her mind and invaded her body.

Through her heart there rings regret.

Through her mind the words “no.not.yet”

play over like the voice that was never heard.

She drops to her knees and closes her eyes.

Her soul is saying, “everyone dies.”

The Wind

I felt the wind on my lips, and I remembered you.

The cool softness, the burning from inside.

The mood so right, the passion so intense.

Then the breeze settled, and I was left

with the same emptiness that you, too, left.

But this time, the tears did fall, and my heart did break.

One last memory,

one last dance,

one last kiss,

Now it is over.

Gripping Fear

Gripping fear is haunting me,

Haunting me night and day,

Holding me back from flying free.


With the exams I cannot be happy,

Got to work. There is no other way.

Gripping fear is haunting me.


No lake of peace as far as I can see,

But the troubled sea rages away,

Holding me back from flying free.


Although I can cross the furious sea,

While hope sends out a ray.

Gripping fear is haunting me,

Holding me back from flying free.

Kindred Beings

Now, feelings flying like silken leather we stop

To stare at each other

In the half moonlight. Found inside

Is something like attempted paradise.


Limb over limb, grasping over the entanglement

I stop, to nuzzle your chest and

Enter the creature within.

Cry, in the guided minds together

Certain of destiny, certain of shimmered quality of light.


Have you ever heard the sigh of winter? I know you have not,

Inside your body was airy summer when created

Brought light into myself, at the first glance

I can gain life, living inside each other

Two created, instant together kindred entwined;


How did we even attempt to see what happened if we did.

Gregariously watching, One even as speaking, fluted softly

Discover what makes us become, flicking, twisting

For inside one another we sigh.


Of Light and Dark

There is reasoning

And then there is release.


I’m tired of the war raging here.

I’m tired of keeping up the fight.

The burden I shoulder

is not so heavy.

So I’ve stopped resisting its tug.


Yes, I walk in the light.

But I carry the darkness with me.