The prompt this week was pieces, or peace.




we serve

our hearts

in pieces,

potluck style,

tasty dishes

for life’s buffet.




if it’s true,

that thing about

cracks being how

the light gets in,

well then I’m

a supernova

man, I’m bright

from all that light

I let in when

I broke




Soon we’ll be done

you and I and the rest,

resolved at last, long last

to ash on the tongues

of creatures with less

at stake, less to prove

but more sense and senses,

and the rivers and the trees

won’t notice that we’ve gone

because they have always

danced heedlessly along

and they’ll twirl and leap

magnificently still

around the fish and the foxes

that we finally left in peace.


over again

too many burials

this last year

too many endings

lives and friendships

stories and eras

and through it all

we, left behind,


against the odds

muddle and manage

to start over

and over again

The race (day 30)


Throughout the day

our three dogs lie in wait

rearranging limbs

on couch and floor

to chase beams of light

in a slow-motion race

that ends in a tie

the moment we reach

for our shoes and leashes.

Celsius 233

If the fire burned as bright

by any other name,

would you light the torches

that set our words to flame,

incinerate the pages

of a thousand different tomes,

and meter upon meter

of dreams disguised as poems?

Crack of noon

I wake at the crack of noon, he said,
wincing either from his stale humor
or the truth of waking hungover
at midday, the truth of the sloth
he wore like a sweater in winter.
He began to ramble then,
knowing he should have stopped
long ago, the talking, the drinking,
and the sloth.

Shadow love

Ours is a shadow love,
the kind that washes
over your eyes and
stops you in your tracks,
filling your heart
with gratitude
for just a moment,
just a second,
until the shadow passes
and you notice
the dirty dishes
piled in the sink
and the coffee that’s
dribbling slowly
down your shirt.

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