Poems and Art


One Glimpse (2010)

One glimpse of time

one slant of light, caught

by the chance turn of a head

before darkness crept in

one eternity

of convoluted shapes

patches of blinding light

shadows hinting at mysteries

eyes, transfixed, until

the screen went black


Inhale (2014)

You crept in, at dusk

unnoticed, watching me

water plants

and sing along with the radio

dancing with my cigarette

performing for the mirror

unaware of you

a private show

with roses face and glistening eyes

a woman, unknown to you

and your heart broke

to see life

witnessed in full form

and you slipped away


letting me inhale


Storm (2014)

It is not the storm raging

beyond, that threatens to destroy

rather, it is the cruel storm

hidden within

that rips the knotted heart to pieces the personal mythology

with outdated characters

putting its noose around the neck

whispering poisonous lies

craved, despised

a downward spiral

whistling, rattling, trembling




Sunrise (2014)

It is dark and I am the only one

awake, in this city of lights

city of wonder and mystery

city I did not choose

but choose

to love, embrace with all of my

still confusion

in that middle-ground of wondering

where I stand, shaky-footing

but okay now at this age

and stage

to make a mis-step

and fall

flat on m face

as I watch the moon

right in front of me

placed right there

just for me, over

the neon lights of the park

purples and blues and greens

so light

even though I hear the rain

and wonder

how big the puddles will be


in the quiet before the cars rumble

and the cranes arch their necks

this moment of silence

when everything

feels oh so right

quiet, quiet before the world wakes up

the world out my window

the world inside

let it stay quiet for just one more moment

peaceful beautiful.


Slanting Bed (2014)

I sit on a slanting bed, old

borrowed, in this place I don’t call


I don’t call home, yet I wonder about

this concept, home.

The sun greets me, awakens me

reminding me, that I am in between

here and there, the first thought—

separation. I rest with this,

sinking deeper

into the bed, my leg half-numb

sinking deeper into exile

a barren landscape of questions

I can’t answer. The sun

becomes even brighter

reaching through the cracked slats of my shutters

and the impermanence of the particulars

bring me back: the dry air and terra cotta paint cracking

falling on my toes, this moment

the only home I have

this moment, the only home I ever have

whether here or there

and I sink even deeper, into this dialogue

where comfort is not found in resolution

where comfort is not found in knowing

where the mysterious sunlight warms my face

and I stop, for just a moment

asking the questions.



Lonely Promenade (2016)

A familiar sensation,

around the bend, anticipation


and she–alone, here amidst

horns honking, people screaming

bustling about, going


she–ever the vagabond

tastes loneliness, relishes its coldness

the affirmation of wanting—its

own reward

and tears fall over her smiling lips


certain that she does not know

wandering through questions and sadness

that wipe her slate



Light in the Shadows (2016)

I see light in the shadows

What do you see?

Where do you find the ineffable?

The longing for the word, that can’t be spoken?

In the solitude of walking

Or in the smile of the old lady,

Nodding her head and wildly swinging her arms as she passes

And I wonder, where she is going…

And I wonder, why the light hits at this perfect angle

Right now, it’s perfect

Waiting, just for me, inviting me in

And the butterflies in my stomach

Dance and dance

As I touch, ever so slightly

Upon that light, just beyond my reach

A moment, reminding me

Of what I can’t hold in my ephemeral arms

But maybe, just maybe

For one moment

I can close my eyes, and Remember

And feel the light in the shadows…


One Breath (2016)

One breath, observed

Or note

So much more

Fulfilling than an entire symphony of sounds

One sip of wine or bite of a sweet date, melting


One step, toes touching the ground, feeling pebbles

And heat

Connecting earth and sky

And time stops…

I want to stop, all this rushing through

Forgetting moments later what I did

Or what I said

Am I even here?


I want to look you in the eyes

And see you, and see me

One breath

One true breath…



Yom Kippur (2016)

I’m looking…

The heaviness is thick

And sticky

Pale-gray dew, a wool blanket

Holding, separating, shielding

Even the beating in my chest

Is deafening, and I fall to my knees

Past, present, future swirling

A willing participant in this ritual

An unpeeling of flesh—unprotected glaring

Crawling my way back to me

A forgotten place supplanted by layers of stories

And beliefs

And lies that extinguish dancing fairies

And dreams

And the still small voice—knocking, banging, pleading

To come back home…

But, I am already home, in all my questions and forgetting and wandering

I am already home—light radiating, always radiating

Even through heaviness

Even through darkness

Even through questions and confusion

Nothing separates

Home was here all along.


It’s the Light (2016)

It’s the light that gets me, right there

In that place that held her

In that place that now, must let her go

Fading light

The last glow, whispering

That winter is just a breath away

Darkness and silence lingering

But did the world change, or did I?

What brought down that vicious dark lens?

I see couples walking hand in hand

Children running in the park

Laughing and smiles

But I see only darkness, hear only silence

And endings, leavings

Her leaving, like all leavings

Do I mourn her departure?

Or my own,

Final departure?

Time—merciless, unconcerned

With my memories

Slipping through my fingers




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