Anger only goes so far,

Angry, I tell myself

I could shatter it all,

Tear up the ground,

And watch everything fall,

But even as I say the words,

My stomach turns with doubt

Because anger is a shallow thing,

Sooner or later,

The flames burn out

But for you…

For love,

I’d stop time itself

Without a second thought,

Someway, somehow,

I’d do it

For you, how could I not?


An idea,
nearly formed,
a broken watch,
a band that’s torn,
a photograph
filled with strangers,
a warning sign,
reading: danger,
a bowl of water
flipped upside down,
a big red nose
without a clown,
a love letter,
left unsent,
a silly straw
that isn’t bent…
what is left
when we lose the magic?
The thought itself
is so very tragic.

Enchanted Places

I imagine enchanted places,

Places far past the edge of certainty,

Existing in all the spaces the world isn’t.

There, all things float like rubber ducks,

Ever bound to the surface,

Never knowing the bliss of sinking.

I can picture how the plants grow,

Longing for the ground,

As stubborn roots cling to the sky above,

Never knowing the peace of being planted.

I wonder if there are people there

Who dream of a world beyond,

Fantasizing about far off places,

Never grasping the gift it is to float.