Beauty Always Extracts a Price
San Francisco, California
All the world is an urgent fire warning—purple
lightning in human profile, caught in glorious
photos of famous skylines. (Who knew its jaw
was so strong?) Every morning the freeways
compose their original preludes. Pieces of asphalt
crack and unearth themselves from the streets.
The mailbox fills with paper (none of it letters)—
and I’m close to finding the keyboard my send
button sticks to. Let me imagine your lower face
in any shape I like. To bring out your eyes:
the short, curved beak of owl—thinking it must be night.
But today the sun disappears instead of setting.
Here is where the veil of day falls around us,
its duty ended. Here is where the land turns over.
(Twyckenham Notes, Issue Fourteen, Winter 2021–2022)
From The Saplings Think of Us as Young
From We retreat into the stillness of our own bones
[A squall imprints the windows]
A squall imprints the windows,
unburdened by pigment. That weight
is carried by orchids and human cells —
thickest when flushed. You are the warmest
thing in the room. A dragon plant that held
its bloom for twenty years gives us jasmine
in winter. Maybe someday we will be deadened
to flowers. Not today. When your breath
embosses my skin, I lose track of color —
the shade between the minutes, the dye
between the days, the diluted city dark.
(Moria Literary Magazine, Issue Eight, Fall 2021)
NORTH AMERICAN REVIEW
“I Sleep at the Far Edge of the Bed, Crowded by Nothing”
belle ombre
“We Must Learn Not to Want What We Love”
SMALL ORANGE
“[There are many signs of sand: the horseflies]”
Parentheses Journal
“For Centuries, We Had No Word for Dream”
American Literary Review
“I Knew the Flavor of Apple, but Not Its Sweetness”
The Shore
“You’d Think It’s Fever but the Scale Is Wrong”
wildness
“[It’s one of several possible todays]”
Twyckenham Notes
Nixes Mate Review
“Some People Kept Using Their Fireplaces, Even on Non-Burn Days”
MORIA Literary Magazine
“[A squall imprints the windows]”
“[A bolt of plaid ocean rolls past]”
Sublunary Review
“[Our bones lie together, all hollow]”
“[We held off the tree line]”
“[After dreaming of sun, I woke up / with burned skin]”
“[We pose together, an untaken picture]”
“[The water thins, our shower]”
The Inflectionist Review
Interview as the “Featured Poet” for Issue 13 (Oct. 2021)
“[One childhood day—the sky indelible]”
“[In the thicker sky of coastal cities]”
“[We will never gain the steep]”
“[We retreat into / the stillness of our own bones—]”
“[A cloud formed in the lobby]”
“[We listen to candlelight burning, thin]”
“[I rearrange my inner ear]”
“[The sanderlings choose to run]”
High Shelf
“[You stood there, pre-dreamed]” (with the title “Diagnosis”)
Star 82 Review
“[We passed through three dreams]” (with the title “Crescent”)
The Night Heron Barks
“An Oral History of the Last Earthquake in the San Joaquin”
Birdland Journal
“The Wood Planks in the Back Deck Were the Size of Empty Streets”
“Bunker at 3:00 a.m. (or an optical illusion)”
West Trestle Review
“[A portrait of dawn hung in the sky]” (with the title “Inscription”)
Poetry Midwest