SPRING IS SOON Before you say if to the road, you have to draw the curtains over every mirror. You have to sanitize the voices in your mind. The mornings are all the body can feed on. They buzz lik…

Moon Landing for Jason Ryberg it’s taken me eighteen months to get you to understand how with only one eye i need twice as much light to read a book or catch the outline of a girl’s face on a wide …

the warmth of burning we need fire— to shine a little brighter, to feel a little warmer. gathered for a friend’s birthday, we each search for flame. is there no match in the cake box? does anyone h…

Peppermint Summer Miniature treasures hidden in my grandmother’s purse. My fingers scouted out the red and white discs, and anticipation crackled with the cellophane. It created a snowball fight on…

Muscle Memory How many people have refolded this same page that I am folding now above a poem clean as the mountaintop? A vantage point that connects aloneness with everything? Even my bones know w…

On mornings Before they die mornings taste like mint toothpaste. I had been asleep before, safe from sad news, rocking myself dead by the sink. The splintering of smoldering water snapping like gui…