‬‪Sometimes it’s mountains,‬

‪Sometimes it’s under my bookshelves between the drums crowned with a whiskey‬


Wolf Willow

In your wildest of mind
dressed in your fairest furs
there was a lightness of air
breathing in through the patio door

It was a silvery air singed at the tip
onto which I set your imagined life
style was served as it danced away
and I was enlightened by the weary trip

In moments across the patio door
your furs wrestle with Wolf Willow
whilst mine sing with lavender bees
these wildest of minds locked through the summer screen

Wrinkled in obligation
you built a wall against the damned wind
locked out the smell we couldn’t devour whole
to keep our fur clean and sweet.

To be Considered

Who will see me when my skin lets go of my bones?
who will see me when my eyes cloud over while my nose continues to grow?

not that girl
who stands guard
in meek resolve uses that
tone of voice
and the illusion of choice she “asks” me if I’d like
milk or water to help me swallow
and when the pill gets stuck above the lump in my throat

I tell her I’m confused and I don’t feel well.
She pats my back and uses that
tone of voice
that sucks my breath
she tells me she’ll tell someone else and to enjoy this beautiful day.

My body hurts
deeply I am so tired
I never considered my life would or could be like this in the end

We have a humaine society for our pets
but we imprisin our mothers and fathers with our love.


I worship my breath
the deep, hollow depths of lung
that bring me to the highest
and lowest examples
of what it means
to be in me so hard
it hurts

One day to triumph over
the devil on my shoulder
as she burrows to my insides

whilst ripping my heart out of my chest
and piercing in it between my ears

I could have breathed deeper
for shorter and faster
for worse
Or better

It’s just you against yourself
out there in the wild

The Spa

In a bathtub with the world
less relaxed as I track detached skin
attached to a long dark hair
grey at the root
after it collides
with an unapologetic bump
into my slick bare thigh

Ruffles are smoothed
as a flutes echoes through
the artificial falls tempest roar

a glance through the skylight
brings a castle
and a stranger
in the window watching

watch each other
winter bodies
winter minds
shocked flaccid skin
repels glazed direct stares
and a passive agressive
hunt for used lounge chairs

free fruit, tea and cucumber water
compliment the sour patch kids
hidden in my purse.
It kinda sucks
and it couldn’t be better

On Mom-ing 

Every morning
before I get out of bed
I plug into the world
with my phone in my bed.

Read on a screen how somebody
gave someone the power to
report every flicker of terror
(which seems to give them more,
given that we’re scared)

everything we put in,
on and around our bodies
is potentially toxic –
but maybe not – some say

confused and scared
overwhelmed in our heads
sick in our hearts.
Escape in a dream

I will plant a seed
on a farm in the country
to grow safe plants over
my silk and glass family

where they will grow with my worry
until we are suffocating
we won’t go out there anymore

it’s a Germified
world out there

but we’ll be safe under here.

Every morning
I wake up powerless
with inoccent eyes
staring at me faithfully
like i know everything

now, what’s for breakfast?