July 25, 2018

Now, I say, I am home.

Come my love for our season is ripe.

Upon us is the night that once split becomes daylight.

The softness of touch is surreal.

It frightens the plague within me.

I dare not endure a walk down the isle dressed in white.

For the lines are too sharp,  and...

December 28, 2016

Ten years ago, when I was twenty-three, I hugged my father in the parking lot of the Albertson's grocery store as I told him I was leaving to San Francisco. If I recall correctly, I cried in his arms for a about a minute or two but it seemed like twenty. Subconsciously...

May 5, 2016

In this place I left some time ago

Where palm trees are imported from the tropics and planted in singular strokes. Side walks are paved for a linear route, and homes are lined up in rows of squares- the keep up is expensive-so make it pretty.


I’m now here to stay and th...

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