Wednesday, May 18, 2011


Verona. Venezia. Roma.
With Homer, Calvino and the Bard in tow.

When my gods come for me, let it be said
that somewhere in the slithery gravel of my past,
when the moon shed its ivory on waltzing tides
and silences fractured into vermillion streets
as time fell, like voile, like rain,

I was nowhere to be found,
forgotten to the amniotic lure of Mnemosyne's song.

Tuesday, May 10, 2011


Life happens
this very moment, in lightless living rooms
under dewy birches, curled paws and unassuming honesties
over ashen hills, dusty alleyways and postmen's desks
through desolate sandcastles

It never pauses

lines in poems
or daylight on windows, or witches in fables
or calendars on festivals, or things in the fridge
or fire on matchsticks, or reason around religion
or boredom at schoolbells

or me, or you
or this malaise we so passionately endure,
the unfailing burden of being young.

Friday, May 6, 2011


Summer stroll by the lake.
5:41 pm. May. 23 Degrees.
Mom's calling out.

His slender fingers hold
a tangerine argument
that can't wait.

She'll be angry soon.
But sometimes what we want is all we need.
Icarus would've understood.