Have you ever tried  to shake out laundry  drying on a line  of any bees that might have made your jeans  a temporary home? That is what it feels like trying to empty out my head before bed— just trying to free these bees before they sting me  in my sleep.


They cut her down today— first, they started  with her tallest branches just a few cuts  to sprinkle the earth  with hundreds of years worth  of her Next, they began sawing at  her midsection  bulbous and covered in lichen  her body etched with the histories of teenage love Finally, they snipped her — sliced her…

By the Roots

I wanted to run my fingers  through your long hair reaching like wisps of branches  toward the sky grip you tight by the roots and remind you who controls the wind  that rustles your leaves  who controls the rain to relieve your thirst  and who controls the sun to warm your soul. 


When I’m old and it’s time for me  to leave this earth, paint me in green in honor of the moss which grows across the abandoned train station, across the stumps and rocks that flirt with sunlight in the woods.


You pop in and out of my life like the sun slips in front of and behind the clouds  a fickle force of nature, yet I still turn to you  to help my flowers bloom.