Category Archives: imagination


a tear
in the fabric
pull out a thread
unravel a ball of yarn
several years
lead me
to meet my Maker
raise the knife
to slay the ram
saying it was for the Creator
to test you
what a ruse
to hold a sham hand
a full house
built on sand
the boy prowls around the city
with a head full of bees
eyes full glass
pouring over words
from a text
what was truthful
but brutal
I won’t spill my intestines
on the ground
but spin it
into Joseph’s Robe
to clothe my nakedness
wrapping around my insecurities
somewhere in this piercing pain
is an opening to
put your hand into someone’s chest
and knit your heart

with theirs

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rev up this engine
pull in the reins
maybe I’ll be cause for ruin
conclusion or cause for confusion

maybe the next fix

I’m a incongruent expat
a pocket universe to uncover
how this bird flutters
melting into butter
a million sighs we’ll surrender
fill in the blanks
that you wrap around your neck
an inkling to


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Lightbulb, Wagon.

a lightbulb lit
burned dimly from the shed ceiling
flickering and littering glimmer
barely penetrating through a crowd of gloom
how the static obfuscated our surroundings
these foibles knit us
but sometimes they betray us

just a lone wagon
with a crooked wheel
rolling on the freeway
up and down a roller coaster
hope to find the way
back to  her owner

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Mad Max Laundry

Folding laundry to the Mad Max: Fury Road soundtrack has revealed to me a pocket universe of mayhem. As if every moment a sock implodes– a star burning it’s last fuel, or when a shirt is folded diagonally an all-terrain-vehicle does a somersault sailing heedless onto some contorted wreckage, a drawer staggers outward erupting in a vociferous conflagration licking up the walls fed incessantly by an awakened backdraft. I feed the beast with more shorts and pants, oil in the engine, but it thirsts for more, insatiable for the sacrificial cotton and mixed nylon sources. Laundry will never be the same.