Poems

I have been publishing poems since I was in Junior High School. Below you can find a selection of poems that have been published since the mid-90s.

When the white thunder stops and you’re finally curled

in your womb of snow, wiggle your toes.

If there is no pain, flex your fingers, make a fist,

plow a breathing space. This smell – clean, empty --

must be the scent of the upper atmosphere,

dragged down miles, flake by flake.

Careful. You don’t want to be a second triggering

tremor, setting off another slide; slowly pack your chrysalis.

Though your chamber may be infused with sky-blue light

you won’t be able to tell which way is earth.

Remain calm. Find a small heavy object – a knife, a watch --

hold it out and let it drop. Its fall will tell you

the direction of the ground. Don’t be surprised if it hits

your chin; your mind has already blacked out those sickening

minutes, your body a loose marionette in the tumble.

When you have your bearings, mole in the opposite direction.

Try not to think about the surface,

smooth now as a low-tide beach at sunrise.

Don’t picture the search party spotting your glove

worming through the glittering crust. Forget

how your presence there, and your entrance,

will be – as it always has been – utterly, unimaginably small.