Monthly Archives: June 2014

Camping in Indiana

Camping in Indiana

That sheen, yes, what a word,
catching the light of our campfire
in the drops clinging to your chest
hair, somehow unmatted
in the aftermath.

That lazy smile your mouth cocks
into, satisfied and hungry
again, already, as if
to say we have time.
We have tonight, I know,

that thought settling in
like a comfortable burden, as always,
our eyes moving as one
towards the clear skies overhead
where we rename the stars

after one another.


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Cherry Stones from Outer Space

I remember a news story from April about cherry stones which grew quickly and strangely after being taken up into space, and associative leaps happened.


Cherry Stones from Outer Space


Perhaps one will find its way
into our hemisphere, sinking
deeply enough into our arid soil–

there, just beyond
this property line, the border where we cut
the lawnmower’s trajectory and let nature have the rest.

Perhaps there, among the dandelions and thistles,
something alien will grow.
Slowly, at first, of course, nearly imperceptible,

always inches away from our roaring passages,
it will sink its taproot and find still waters
running beneath our manicured existence.

Perhaps you will notice before I
how quickly its petals unfold (you would),
and how few there are.

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If I Talk in My Sleep

Well, I do have a poem in my first chapbook titled Goodbye, Monogamy, and with an eye towards my graduate thesis I’m trying to generate poems which thematically connect or bridge existing pieces, so here’s the first draft of this one:

If I Talk in My Sleep

Dear God, don’t
let me do this again, this falling
when I know, dear God, this
love I’m in, or say I’m in, cannot survive
the fall if I admit, oh dear God,
even to myself, that I need

Good God, please
give me a sign, I pray
silently as two of us touch
backs in our bed of three years,
doubting my prayer could ever be
heard or answered, another
confused voice between the sheets.

Oh God, yes,
the other’s hands again,
last night, everything
which has not grown
too familiar. Again, I plead,
and God damn the consequences
if I talk in my sleep.

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A Sacrament Past (Revision)

So, I’ve been neglecting this blog because my third semester of grad school came into play, and the at-home portion is all about writing an extended critical essay of 20+ pages, so I’ve been in research mode rather than creative mode. That puts me a bit outside my comfort zone, but I really do love my ECE topic (Love Whispers its Name: Encoding and Euphemism as Manifest in the Poetry of Select LGBT Poets of the 20th Century), and four of the books I’m sourcing have already arrived, so the panic level is decreasing. This poem is a revised version which came out of this residency’s workshop.


A Sacrament Past

My first prayer, one for survival–
now I lay me down to disregard
as Daddy drinks deeply from amber
bottles on the bed of his pickup
and Mommy kneels to scour
the linoleum, hair veiling her
constant glances toward the door.

Come tomorrow, we will take our places,
wearing our proverbial best
among the good people. Mommy will worry
the wrinkles from our costumes,
Daddy will look at me again
and tell me that, yes, this Sunday is another
Grape Juice and Crackers Day,
so I have to wear a tie.

He shows me how
we knot it about our throats,
ignoring any necessary tightness.

The original version:


A Sacrament Past


The first prayer I knew was one for survival.

Now I lay me down

to disregard–


Watch your Saturday morning cartoons.

Mommy and Daddy need to talk.


Take communion, son. Now.

It’s Sunday, we’re all here

in our proverbial best.


The collar? Ignore any necessary tightness,

under the circumstances.

Not my will, but What is thine, Daddy?


Shh. Suffer this

small thing. He wills it,

you know.


Dogs wear theirs with far less fuss.

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