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Haiku Miscelanny


You must take him with

a pinch of salt. The flavor

is better that way.


Fear is a bridge of

lies, connecting then to now,

burned by the crossing.


Taking your fingers

in my mouth, will I taste your


Forced Air

The house is breathing

stretching and rising, filling

up like newborn lungs

Night Song

the crunch of new snow

is weaker than the singing

of the north-bound geese.

Fleeting Snow

The snow melts faster

than I can come to hate its

late-winter insults

Small Offerings

the touch of my hand

making small offerings to

your soul through your skin.

Holding On

On days when I can’t

hold on to you, I have to

hold onto something.


I hardly noticed

as the endless flow of you

wore my edges smooth


The caterpillar

must liquify its whole self

to be born anew


I want to swallow

the words that leak from between

your ragged, wracked breaths


Your hands. Lips. Breasts. Legs.

A few of the things I’d like

to be in between.


you bring me right to

the brink of thought, and leave me

gasping to speak it


My taught soul, lifting

to your lips like a chalice.

Drink me through my skin.

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