Poem — I didn’t kill myself when things went wrong I didn’t turn to drugs or teaching I tried to sleep but when I couldn’t sleep I learned to write I learned to write what might be read on nights like this by one like me. — Leonard Cohen That anything could…

Poem — Things to do instead of being on your phone at night begins one headline, as if to tell you that you don’t deserve it, that you haven’t earned this escape. Suddenly, it’s the longest night of the year, and sitting in bed by yourself feels so close to drowning. …

Poem — This is the prelude to suffering a flash of shadow between her legs a hand, a promise, a lie if you want honesty you can’t have her word but you can have her silence summer’s long gone now but she still remembers its dreams the ones she fought sitting down and doing nothing thigh and tongue not to be known outside it it is night and she’s…

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Attempt at genealogy — apricity: the warmth of the sun in winter As a child I discover bullet holes talk to me from the walls. On the other side, the riffles never fall silent, my mother turns to her mother endlessly through that void. The void has settled at the pit of my stomach. I know…

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Poem — The last one to believe in letting go at the moment of telling, embracing the ground in this poem I’m writing, either the place of fusion or demolition, A trap to say a name forever. Each day the walls get more naked: I cannot describe absence, not with words made with deteriorated…

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