sometimes the brilliance blinds me

and makes me fall to my knees

and I don’t know the words

to the prayers that come to mind

because I’m not sure who you are

or if you are listening to me

but I know my heart swells

and my busy brain slows down

just long enough to feel warmth

to be overwhelmed with hope

and that’s enough for belief



a list of needs

steady and constant

is what I need

when I rush off to look

down a rabbit hole

or into the sunset

clutching a new pebble

I’ve just found

and you should know

I’m likely to be found

face down in the grass

talking to a bloom

or lost, looking up

where some bird calls

and you should be prepared

when I crumple

in tears or laughter

and you’ll need to listen

because the deep sighs

will be the most telling

of both my brightness

and the settling fog

but if you can

I will hold your hand



the right place

It had been a solid 12 hours since she woke.

She’d done the things that must to be done.

No more, and no less.

She read and wrote and read some more until her eyes were sore. Because she forgot to put on her reading glasses, leaving them propped on top of her head. Forgotten.


The laundry was piled on the table. A cat sleeping on top of it, daring her to make it move.

She ignored the cat. And the laundry. She knew better. Cats aren’t really things that can be told what to do. And laundry was always there. These things were simply in their place.

It was growing late, and she realized she’d barely used her voice all day long.

Two humans. That’s who she’d spoken words to. Almost begrudgingly.

Sometimes it was hard to let words leave her throat. It was so much easier to see them in front of her. To be able to move them around and make them leave if they wouldn’t find their place.

But he wanted to call and hear her voice. She knew this. She understood. But the distance made it strange and strained. There were so many unanswered questions. And she liked answers as much as she liked knowing that everything was in its right place. She had the feeling he was not in the right place. Or perhaps she wasn’t. Never mind. Those things always sorted themselves out in the end.

And, oddly, in her discomfort she recognized that she was more sure than ever that she was magic. And needed someone who understood that. She wasn’t quite sure he had even an inkling of this. Men don’t very often, you know. They think they can ask a few probing questions, chat up a girl a wee bit, and have her fall madly in love with them.

Or something entirely other than that. Sometimes it was hard to tell exactly what they were wanting.

The second human was an elven thing who was always in the right place. She had a voice that tinkled like a temple bell. And curling, fiery locks that escaped around her face in a rebellious way. And she brought coffee. It had been days. The taste was thicker on her tongue than the tea she’d been drinking all week. She loved it, but wasn’t sure she liked it. And she was grateful.

But then the silence came again.

It was a wearisome thing. Soft and familiar, but it visited far to often these days.

So she put on some new music and began to read another page.

At least both those things were in the right place.



flying lessons

someone should stop me

from feeling these things

from hurling myself

off cliffs in my mind

and with my heart

and sometimes with my body

maybe it should be me

or maybe you should take

some responsibility for

the mess you made when

you left me without warning

except that it was the best

thing that ever happened

because it made me learn

how to really be free to love

myself instead of you


a bite

I’m warm like a mid-February day

and cold like my right foot

as it hangs off the bed

outside of the blankets

so I can breathe

while I sleep and toss and wake

and sleep again

and the water is running

away with my thoughts

as the tub fills

to drain me of all

the things that make me

a little rough

around the edges

where I sink my teeth in

and taste you

sour like sweet grapes in June

see how time rushes on

and away from us?



without editing myself

sometimes its nice

to press


and let my words fly off freely

far and wide

to someone who might not understand

because they don’t know

all the things

but then again

maybe you do

and maybe you’ve seen between

the lines of text

and carful construct

to who I am

and what makes me tick

because you are

always reaching out

when I need your words

and you have looked up

and I realize its ok

to be me

with you

or without

because just me

is just enough



standing in front of the bathroom mirrior 

I slip the hooks through the holes in my ears

they were a gift made of sand and mica, covered in acrylic

because she knows I love the ocean so

and suddenly I remember

the heat of the asphalt under my feet

as we walked from the house to the water

the smell of old wood and dusty beach houses lingering in my nose

colliding with the tang of the sea and the sweat on our skin

and the roses… oh, the roses… tumbling everywhere

just old enough not to be bothered with anymore

just young enough to be stupid

and I loved him and I loved you

and none of us knew anything about what that meant

and we walked out along the sandbar until the tide rolled in

stranding us so far from land

with our little rubber float

all sunshiny yellow

but the water wasn’t quite deep enough to ride

back to the safely of the swimming beach

and the rocks reached up

making the air leak out in whispered hisses

so we stumbled through the rising waves

cutting the soles of our feet on the barnacles

slipping on the slimy rocks

bruising our knees

terrified that they would find out we’d gone so far

because we knew better

but I was never one to let that stop me

and then we were back

and all was well

and we ate Oreos in the kitchen

with sandy salt fingers

and no one even asked where we’d been



This is…

This is the way

This is the way you

This is the way you learn

This is the way you learn that

This is the way you learn that everything

This is the way you learn that everything is

This is the way you learn that everything is not

This is the way you learn that everything is not lost



rummaging through the files

you must have found

all my secrets

and when you whispered them

back to me

it was like you’d written

every word

all the quiet ones that had never been

seen, let alone read

and then you decided

that reading those pages

was too wild, to frightening

and asked too much of you

so silence began

when I least expected it

reminding me

of all the noise you’d made