when i paint myself for you, i am captured      in a space between perspectives. here is the Sitter, shapeshifter, composite...

Trying to write you a poem is hard. I’m twisting into shapes          to dodge cliches, to find the perfect             ...

I’m undoing myself and sewing it back together. My body is circular, a comet, a loop of thread like a magnifying glass, stretching until...

I am closest to you when inside myself, far enough back that I tighten like a snake coiling around a branch, feeling for noise in your...

where you haul me into a house full of bits i can’t remember except for plumbing, and you say wouldn’t it be funny to spiral every faucet...

(published on Concrete Online 12/07/2022) Seductive night of promise and disco beats, she retreats, shrouding her body, masking her face,...

(printed in Concrete's Venue 398) I knew I was her when I was taller felt a blood heat to see his falseness, inhaled the palace and...

Fingernails tap, thumbing a silent attack. The city sits, oblivious. I force my eye against the wall, searching for a blink behind a...

You make me feel unclean, with your sparkling rub, acidic sheen. You say: bathe in me, in my immaculate sea … Stop taunting. Spotlighting...

I spy a pair of lifeless eyes, a fog upon the windowpane, a bluster to my sun-disguise, I spy a pair of lifeless eyes. Here comes his...

wholemeal hands fumbling my body,   greedy hands tapping like autumn at a vein, chilling my skin, pushing out my hearty filling   and I, a loaf, am silent.   fingers scratch, flesh slashed, I think to myself, that is that . holes grow hollow, I watch my limbs dissolve in water,   and I, a loaf, am silent.   I wear thin, lighter hands won’t stop throwing me soon I am surrounded in myself, soggy dregs, friendless mush,   and I, a loaf am

Shuttling along with blinking lights and commotion, my sight shifts from the metallic rectangles that rumble anonymously in-front and behind, to the branches that shoot upwards, a fence of centipede trees that have been pruned to make room for the bustle of a road. As I speed by, they continue to grow, gasping for the glow that lurks behind heavy clouds of smoke . What is more alive: the screeching of rubber, or the silent defiance of something tamed, stretching tow