Ocean haiku II

7 05 2014

In a drop, consumed,
mass graves clutching strangled cries
to the end of time.

Ocean haiku

5 05 2014

Ghosts of wreckage past
Tell secrets through shadow plays
Await air again.

Poetry’s not for me

27 02 2014

Got another rejection today, and again, it was for my poetry. Not that I’m really surprised, but it does make me feel like I should focus my creative energies elsewhere and that my poetry isn’t poetry-ish  enough. I’ll always write it, but maybe I should be… weirder about it. Or something. I have no idea.


26 01 2014


I saw you
or someone with your mask
on the bus
your eyes, honing in for an empty seat
skim past mine staring at you.
You seem older, face pudgier
off the bus–
I traced your footprints
kept an eye on your tall head above heads in the crowd
my mind sending out telepathic messages for you to swivel around
for you to launch a familiar hug onto me and something along the lines of,
“I haven’t seen you in so long! How are you?”
Someone pulls your sleeve into a corner
to meet with another friend
and a smile appears on your face like one I remember
your open hand open like a hug to this new friend
And i walk past you, thinking
aren’t we such good friends.


3 01 2014

These words are ticking time bombs,
cursed from my lips,
a hex.

It doesn’t matter if I reach or not:
the apple is always just a bit too far,
slipping out of my grasp
landing in another’s.

I’ve stopped doing the math,
but you should know that with me,
everything I do



23 12 2013

You make me such a schoolboy
palpating rhythms within my chest
oxygen leaving my lungs like a hole in space.
Flick me a stare–
was that look I saw in the lenses of your eyes
the look of the decoding of my face against your memory?
The twitch of your moustache
the Instamatic moment when the poles of your mouth glided up
the brief salute of the fingers by the temples on your head I so long to kiss–
Or was it the plastered face
of a man who was simply in the third hour of the workday
and I, only the four-hundredth and twenty-second blurred face that has passed by him?

Either way, I haven’t felt this weak–
knee-knocking, staggering down the sidewalk,
forcing myself to not glance back at the one who makes me surprisingly, achingly weak.


16 12 2013

You are the synecdoche of me:
one part of the whole of my life.

Circle Poetry II

13 12 2013

Not as good as the other circle poetry, mostly because I tried to make it as dirty as I could (and only moderately succeeded). Taken from a page in Oryx and Crake. Because nothing says dirty poetry like Margaret Atwood.

Turkish delight suck off luminous green rabbits,
it fills him with carnivorous desires — tear it apart.
It would be a bad idea to offend the women.
Stupefied with drink,
he should have made rabbits edible —
flesh of a mango.
Words hatched first, and they’d eaten up all the words because they were hungry.

The first star appears:
Big-bum Sally.

Now close your eyes…

2013-12-13 22.04.18

Circle poetry

2 12 2013

Circle words or phrases on an existing page of a novel or another piece of writing (it can be a photocopy of a page, which is what we did) and continue to make circles around the words so that it becomes clear what you circle. Then, you have a (usually incoherent and confusing) new poem!

Here is one I did that I tried to make coherent.

Love Song

I was waiting for it to open.
With the same eyes,
look at objects
Look in his eyes–
penetrating, shocking.
Give a little gasp.
My heart gives off perfume like a flower,
blowing up against the sky noisily.


Poetry published!

19 10 2013

Got an acceptance for a poem I submitted (that I wrote last semester for my poetry class, nonetheless) to a literary magazine today. I believe that’s four acceptance emails/letters in a row now.

What. The. Frig.