i became stories

flat and sharp

symbols that describe


touching objects

treading  ground

watching line after line

THen my fAthEr dieD

Wednesday I visit his son in jail

When he’s a story it doesn’t hurt so much

Anger replaces the broken pieces

Love turns dry and crumbles into disappointment

remains of which I constantly try to brush off

or gather enough together

for one last bite.

So much life spent longing

For what might not even exist.

I want to shred the stories that end

at peak experiences…they’ve ruined me

as I feel the reel must be about to end

no film continues for this long and each day

i continue on….. jumping from story line to story line….


I notice the distance in me and the impatience…..
How when I leave or
Up the phone
I wish I would have waited a little longer
Been more present
Less afraid ……

Those bones keep calling.
Their dust and marrow

Sifting Desert
Ocean floor
Great Lakes shores
The Shadows,Bogs and cobbled
streets of our homeland
Voices whispering

Seeking to be unraveled for
What remains
when everything else is missing.



Stretched taut.

Over heart


as chest

in clothing.

The very fabric of my being