Eternal Venus silver

you sweet magnanimous creature

let me chase and let me love

this luring gem,

dear Luna.

Majestic foxen angel

just pose in space forever

not too close not too real

my guiding light,

oh Luna.

So pray for me

this muse tonight

who won’t stay or know

her grace in time:

my word,

my dear,

my Luna.

Sunset Darlings

you’ll shine

you’ll see

you will kiss the crisp morning

then lullaby the sun down.

One day

real soon

every footstep will ring out

with the sound of belonging.

I know it

I see it

like a solar eclipse mystifies

your glory will here align!

and I will be there friend

to cheer you on

while holding you up

to setting sun.

So shine –

you sunset darling,

shine for everyone!

and other lies

what’s on your TV,

what your friends tell you,

Spam (the mail and meat variety),

how you felt yesterday,

Mark Zuckerberg’s “human” features

my words,

your words,

Shakespeare’s words,

the words on your phone,

Oh! and birds (probably)

Those dreams you fantasize about,

the way your lover feels about you,

your perception –

of other’s perceptions of you

There are a lot of things

that aren’t real

its all salt water

mud in a syrup bottle.

get it out of you.

Do what you have to

stick a finger down your throat

retch if you have to

Get. It. Out.

July’s Air

Watching planes take flight in the night sky

and for the first time in my life

I’m not jealous of the planes,

this is exactly where I wanna be:

right here

tasting July’s air.

I can look at birds floating against the clouds

without rage or spite

just a similar sense of weightlessness ,

cause my mind doesn’t fly away now:

it stays

laying itself bare.

So this poem isn’t a poem

about beautiful women

or angsty expression


not this one,

this poem:

it goes out to the planes

and the birds

and the staying here-

with feet on the ground

breathing in

July’s air.


Laying on a futon:

One can watch city shadows

dance across a crème wall

in a precious puppet show.

The naïve youth can play their dreams

sprawled out on the open ceiling

like a cheap movie theatre.

An equally tenacious and foolish romantic

can open a window to the city

and smell their next lover’s perfume.

Yes the futon is great

for resting before new adventures,

but to not feel its fabric

before moving to silken sheets…

That’d be a travesty.


When blankets are heavy

and the air is cold

worry not

be wild, be bold.

Spit at neighbors

just stop caring

you’ll see

be new, be daring.

Kick the comfort

flush your food

yes you

be fiery, be rude.

you pulse

you blood

you sharpened teeth

let them build you up

or die.

Saturday Sun-Goddess

In ancient Egypt,

Mesopotamia, and Greece

men would travel miles upon miles

to make a sacrifice

(some crops or a first born)

all in the hopes

of seeing a sun goddess:

their silken skin glistening,

like it’s made of gold

and divinity.


I just have to take a trip downtown,

make a more contemporary sacrifice

of chai latte

and wonderful conversation

then just like that,

I experience my own sun goddess

for just a few precious hours:

Shinning bright enough

to make the sun look dim.

A sweetness big enough

to make skyscrapers look small.

A brilliance so luminescent

that I wonder if the evening light

journeyed from her eyes

before pouring out

onto the city’s sacred streets.

then just as beautifully,

just as swiftly,

the sun sets

and my goddess leaves

but I’ll only smile …

because my world will be that much brighter

for the next few days.