Poems

A larva, I wake, call the newsman!

Trick, crooked mirror rooms, all reflect me in pentagons.

They are all special, they are all open, they all make relate

But the trick, crooked mirror rooms, all reflect me in pentagons.

Mirror, mirror contradicts me, but I lay a larva and I cannot fly.

To the camera I say hello but nobody believes me.

Standing in line, mirror straight, we relate

But to the camera I say hello and nobody believes me.

Fissure, fissure, climbing higher!

My cocoon is my shadow, a space that holds.

Flaw, flow, newsman, I think I broke!

And still trick, crooked mirror rooms, all reflect me in pentagons.

2025

Port wine exploding, draw me a flat line

No sins, at this moment I’m sinless.

Scissors hanging and swinging, sing over my head 

Explode, at this moment I’m skinless.

Familiar church, drill me echo—

I refuse to go, lest my grandmother takes me.

Familiar choir, if you find enough time

Expel me a moment of stillness.

Scissors hanging and swinging, sing over my head

Release, let the crisp air expel me.

Familiar church bells, drill echo repairs

Forgive me, I’m dying from illness.

2025