poetry – Why Pears

The Labyrinth

Most days my mind feels like the inside of a pumpkin— tangled, stringy, goopy, I wish I could just carve myself from the inside out, scraping out every last anxious ruminating cyclical thought, but anxiety is the Minotaur and the labyrinth that imprisons it, it is the fourth, fifth, sixth, and seventh Hydra head when…

Fishing for Light

If I were to as Pablo Neruda wrote, sit on the rim of my own well of darkness, fishing for light, I might see monarch butterflies emerging from a winged skull on a 1700’s gravestone, or the girth of a 200-year-old European beech tree snaking its way up the well to greet me, or maybe…

You Are

You are the smell of a hundred years of pine trees whose needles lay muddled by the feet of hikers on an early summer’s morning. You are the grace of a lily pad floating atop a corner of the lake with her roots in place to prevent her from drifting away. You are the resilience…

Everlasting

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 …

Weightless

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…

Illusion

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…

Sapling

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…

Woman

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…