I am everlasting, even after this body dies its nutrients will rise  giving life back to the soil, to the cracks where wild flowers grow—  this I know. I am uncertain  of the future in a lot of ways  but this was the life  and the body I was given  so as long as I …


I’m starting to feel my toes again the feeling has returned  to my ankles  my shins  my knees snaking its way around  my waist, my ass up the middle of my back tracing my spine  vertebrate by vertebrate, and occasionally gets stuck  like an ascending wooden rollercoaster, jolting and threatening  to dump me out of…

Beauty From Just Being

I am infinite though my body will come to rot, press your hand against my skin, feel 300 years worth  of strength of stories of sheer existence  coursing through this bark to let you know it is okay to be torn open just as it is okay to grow, it is part of growing. You…


Buds on the tree  they think they are free from a New England winter  that bucks in the middle of spring, but that doesn’t stop the bees  from drinking up on this summer’s eve.


She goes to sleep with the illusion  of human connection  glowing from her TV  and spends her days watching people in a box as if real people she could hug and touch  were only a thing of museums  and she had to pay  just to get in, because if she can’t rely  on her loved…


I’ve been this struggling sapling worming and  wriggling  to breach the surface  to breathe the air  I’ve always longed for, but up  isn’t always up and down isn’t always down and sometimes east and west  are conjoined twins and I’m racking my brain to figure out why we should  Never Eat Shredded Wheat because it…


Understand  that I will not chase you as I am a woman not a bitch with a bone. 

Ode to the Pussy

Ode to the pussy that’s right, you heard me correctly  this is a poem  dedicated to the pussy my pussy specifically you see she’s quite the detective, always knowing  what or who is coming next, if I should continue seeing him  or onto the next one because she too  knows what she wants  and that…


I wear these words  as armor because if I can’t rely on you to hold me to protect me to embrace me, I’ll do it myself.

If My Mind Was a Fire

If my mind was a fire, I might set up the camping chairs  and make s’mores, might stare into the flames and get lost in a history of campfires, or I might let my candles  burn themselves to oblivion.