No one’s ever freed anything
by hating it.
No one’s ever healed anything
by beating it.
You kicked what was down,
demanding it get up—
you tucked the flower in a closet, then asked it:
“why haven’t you grown?”
You were struck so much,
you flinched at loving hands.
If you’re empty long enough,
drinking in the Sun
will turn your stomach.
Maybe part of healing
is learning to tolerate the medicine.
Maybe poison
is an acquired taste
that needs to be forgotten.
when did poetry,
my sole place of freedom,
become
yet another cage?
“put a bow
on your hell—
tell us
how it’s actually heaven.”
“swear
up and down
that your ugly bits
are pretty—
that there’s somebody out there
who sees it
worth redeeming,
that you, in fact,
do not tire of waiting.”
“make a song
of your screams,
and paint
of your blood,
and sweet, sweet mercy
of your bottomless grudge.”
“tell us,
while the tyrant rules,
that good
has the final say,
that,
in spite of the night,
we’re each promised
beautiful day.”
“create and take
an opiate of your choosing.
wrap these lies
in ribbons of truth.
and, while you’re at it,
go—
paint your decay
in a mask of youth.”
“yes, deceiver—
write us poetry.
swear to us, deceiver,
that it will all
be okay.”
inside of me
I saw an ocean.
I cupped my hands,
scooped some water,
tried shaping it
into a poem—
to tell someone,
anyone,
of the sea
from what I could fit
in just two hands.
my failure, it humbled me.
how oft
have I written off
a person’s whole ocean
from but one drop?
why draw a poem
out of thin air?
poet, fill your cup
then pour it on paper.
poet,
what is your job?
poet,
it isn’t the poem.
poet,
you are a teacher.
poet, teach us
how to live,
poet, teach us
how to grieve.
poet, teach us
how to give,
and poet, teach us
to receive.
poet, teach me
when to stay.
poet, teach me
when to leave.
poet, please
teach me to love,
oh, poet,
so much I can’t breathe.
poet,
focus not
on the rhyme
nor on the meter.
show us
how to spend
our time,
oh, poet—
please,
be our teacher.
if you are failing
oh, poet,
to make something of this life:
tell us.
tell us the truth,
oh poet,
that we may be free.
poet, your truth
will set you
and set me
free.
and poet,
if you struggle
to tell the truth,
if you’d sooner hide
than spin your life
into rhyme,
then tell us of this fear.
tell us of your walls,
that you may shine your light
on our own.
i, the poet:
i have nothing to teach you.
i, the poet
have a critical truth
to tell:
i don’t know what i’m doing.
but in this, i am confident.
i hope you understand.
cradling purity
in my hands—
best friend,
brother,
and child.
i love
everything about you:
pointed ears, crystalline eyes—
(somehow
both daft and wise—)
and a coat
of warmest snow
that only makes me melt.
when you are a creature’s
safety,
and whole world,
it has this odd effect
of making them
your safety
and your whole world
too.
i love my kitties
Is there anyone else
who needs meaning
like breathing?
Anyone else
who thinks feeling
is seeing?
that numbness
is blindness?
Is there anyone else
who doesn’t think
magic
is a bad word?
Is there anyone else
who finds it
in the natural world?
Is there anyone else
who hasn’t
given up hope?
who doesn’t
think that we’re doomed,
who swears
they feel God
even in the concrete jungle?
Is there anyone else
who still believes in us?
Is there anyone else
choking
on the cynic’s pill?
Is there anyone else
who loves the masses
like a true radical should?
Is there anyone else
refusing
blood-smeared glasses,
instead choosing
lenses of rose?
Is there anyone else
who sees the soul
of the world
as a child: longing to be held?
Is there anyone else
perfectly okay
with doing the swaddling?
Tell me:
is there anyone else?
Hi all. Posting this for my fellow writers who regard their blogs as PRECIOUS. I half-fell for a phishing scam right now.
I got an email from “WordPress” (wasn’t WordPress, but looked extremely legitimate) saying my domain needed to be renewed. Didn’t think anything of it, as I coincidentally happened to just order a new debit card, so it seemed plausible that my payment failed.
I went to the website, entered my login details, and was about to enter my card details when I realized that I wasn’t on the WordPress website, but was instead on a site called maxbarkod.com.
I logged into WordPress.com and saw that I wasn’t due for a renewal until August of 2026. I went back to maxbarkod.com and attempted to log in with an incorrect password and it still let me in.
Fortunately, I didn’t enter my card details, but I did enter my password. I immediately changed my password and enabled 2FA.
This almost got me. I could have been at risk of losing all of my poetry.
The email sender was domains.notice@clipeo.be — please be on the lookout, protect your website, and verify all such emails (and report if you receive an email from them or any other phishers!).
you go out
to forget what’s inside.
you drown your past
in blinding lights.
hearing loss,
damaged livers.
the sickness of the young:
we fall in love
with slow death.
we were only 10
when we met—
long before the siren song
of downtown’s
gaping maw
drew you near,
and swallowed you whole.
a DUI
couldn’t pull you
from her belly.
AA meetings,
leaving the event horizon,
breaking free—
but the black hole
beckons.
the past’s gravity
is too great—
you fall back in,
desperate
for amnesia.
what the hell is happening?
snapshots
of every night out:
a timelapse
in my mind’s eye.
years and years
of skin
losing luster,
of eyes
drawing in,
of weakening cheeks,
of smiles
losing their peaks.
groundhog lives:
we rinse and repeat.
trapped
in the same nightmare,
convinced it’s paradise.
anything
to forget the dead end.
go,
pour one out
for a dead friend—
but refill it
soon after.
THE CLOSET MYSTIC 