​Rain patters down houses, 

 bare trees, telephone poles–

dripping into earth.

Inside — crippled confidence,

despondent drive,

the ways of seeing outside–

the ways of sense interpretation.

Hiding under wrinkled cotton

and luminescently pale skin.

Hiding under organs, muscles,

nerve-endings, blood vessels,

 body’s anatomical matter.

Can only hear ticking clocks,

wind and rain.

Can only feel ticking bombs,

whimpers and tears.


Lost Archetype

I can never mean as much

to another as such

I meant to you.

There can be no one, who

loves and understands

in the manner you guided my hands.

I can never sway

anyone – in any way –

how I could sway you.

I may matter to a few,

but I mattered more 

when you were here

to mind more of why I’m dear.

​Three Lives in One

Life is easy 
when you live it slow.

When you live it fast,

there’s too much to know.

When life’s condensed,

it’s too immense

to process all its contents.

It feels like I’ve lived 

three lives in one;

28 years balance this sum

that, often, takes 40 years to come:

College, marriage, children, 

parental deaths, divorce,

home ownership, isolation, 

an existential force,

the tension of abundant duties

mixed with trauma & remorse,

and the growth of self-awareness

clearing, yet, another course.