the selkie

you left remnants of your presence
today – your toothbrush; tiny hairs
in the shower, coiled like secrets.
seeing them makes me feel
like I’m packed full of curled
fiddlehead ferns that are waiting
to open into full growth.
I censor my own words, my poems,
my very thoughts, for fear
they might prove unwelcome
to you. everything is pretty
and sugary sweet on the surface,
but inside I feel myself slowly
dying to break free.

Continue reading the selkie


this place is wild with nature:
great green leaves like jewels
trembling in the rain with sips of
water held in their emerald cups,
little brown striped lizards
bopping and hopping around
like windup toys, sleek
dark grackles with feathers
that gleam iridescent in the bright
sunlight. at night the tree frogs
creak out their intermittent,
ugly song, while the pool
lights change colors with
aching, subtle slowness
like the way my mind changes
when I’m not noticing. I look
and they’re purple; I look away
and then they’re green. only the
steps and the walls remain
the same, like buried ruins
from some underwater civilization,
some long lost cousin
of Atlantis. I could live here
and forget about life
for a while.


there’s a reason
these myths exist. Circe
and the swine, Beauty
and the Beast, Red
and the wolf. men
see themselves as beasts
when they act on their
animal instincts.
they see women
as the humans, who
have the power
to set you free
from your cages
of flesh, if only
we would take pity
on you and see beyond
your rude forms
and beastly behavior
to the suffering men
trapped inside.

Continue reading beasts

fables II

newsflash: I haven’t changed.
if I’ve become yesterday’s news
to you, it’s only because
you realized there was a chance
to have an actual adult
relationship with someone
you seemed to like just fine
until you found out she
wanted to be
with you. that says a lot more
about you than it does
about me, frankly. you
might want to discuss that
with your therapist.

you’re that dog
from Aesop’s fable, the one that
had a bone, but
when he saw his reflection
in the water of a stream
he was crossing, was jealous
of that other dog’s
clearly superior bone,
and in opening his mouth
to bark at the interloper
dropped the actual real bone
into the stream. a bone in the mouth
is worth three in the stream.

well have fun forever
chasing what you can’t
have. I’m no man’s
bone. laters!

that ass

I was so incredibly
wrong about you. a lion
is a majestic beast, the King
of the jungle, a noble carnivore
that has no choice but
to be what he is. you’re no lion –
so far from a king, you’re a peasant –
a pissant, a donkey, a braying ass
standing in the street
kicking people in the face
because they saw you
at your worst and refused
to run away, always craning your neck
to try to get at that greener grass
on the other side of
the fence behind which
you put yourself.

my mistake was clearly
hitching my wagon
to the wrong beast of burden.
you’ll never move
an inch, you stubborn mule,
so I’ll leave you to your rotten
straw and hay. go ahead and
eat your words. it’ll serve you right
when they make you sick.

the Lion

I’m at 125th street, waiting. in an
exhausted daze, took
the wrong train
again. story
of my life. next to me
a woman clutches a pamphlet
with a crudely drawn cartoon
of a lion on it.

“There’s a Lion
looking for you,” it reads.
it’s just some creepy
Xtian tract, but the phrase
haunts me. I’m reminded of
the Tarot card for Strength,
and of Narnia.

where’s my Lion? has he
found me yet? will
he eat me already, and free me
from this hell of my own
making? or am I already
inside his belly – is that why
everything feels so very

Continue reading the Lion