It’s not enough to believe.
How do we prove?
These exchanges
fleeting as tasting my faith on your lips
become testimony
evidence born from revelation:
bending, passing, and breaking
to fit inside what I know.
Speaking with a tongue of transgression
while learning to repress secrets,
a performance of submission,
tactics a result of hearing
suffering yields eternal reward.


artist: anna gaskell, wonder, 1997

artist: anna gaskell, wonder, 1997

There are men who walk through the Redwoods
wearing slip-on shoes
in case they need to fly to Bermuda -
ready to visit their offshore accounts.
Behind glass walls, business moves
from one meeting to another.
The light shines like butter;
the cold air saturated with potential.
My thoughts hover on concepts of pace
[intersections and revolution].
Do you remember asking me
if I liked the style of dress or
how the dress fits the body?
Nostalgia has its own logistics.
If you cut my tongue,
I will still confess
I saw a deer sleeping
inside the Transbay Tube.

sexual politics

a psychology of place
the most traditional pride we have
imagine policies centered within body sovereignty
what we desire is liberation

battles rage at the community level
common ground can be found between neighbors
structural violence is a domestic issue
what we desire is love

please take my hand
it will tell you
everything you want to know
what we desire is more

l’appel du vide

If there is something to desire,
there will be something to regret.
If there is something to regret,
there will be something to recall.
If there is something to recall,
there was nothing to regret.
If there was nothing to regret,
there was nothing to desire.
–Vera Pavlova

Erie Street 12.31.13

Erie Street 12.31.13










What we carry
is a result
of not knowing
what the day will bring.


As her legs lifted
and separated
to step up
onto the sidewalk,
he took a deep bite
into a pastry
as if he had taken
what was not his.


predicting spring shadows

as memories fade into obscure weather patterns
peach colored sunrises expose ripened emotional damage

manifested as silenced motivation
softened by the way distance deceives

we migrate back
and then move forth

power, defined for us, shifts politics of economy
signified by thrift followed by concepts of restraint

did you know orange-eyed pigeons see only pure blue skies
the ironic result of light appearing further from the sun

all of these interactions blend into wider world views
refractions bent in the direction of ineffability

no one wins domestic wars

His words struck softly against my skin,
This is where I took the architect.
After being dropped off at the top of the hill,
I tasted metal as his grey truck accelerated back to his real life.

When I got home, you danced for me
after presenting a 15-week plan for our future;
I noticed there was no time scheduled for compromises.
This is when I knew I had found the good side of a habit.

After reading your poem, written the moment when I asked him for his middle name,
I cried. I remembered that day the elevator stopped working and how long it was broken.
Beneath our domestic ceremonies,
minivans crush dry leaves into the dust we wipe off our TV.


Oakland Jan14


Oakland, Jan14