A poem about the soul’s power. — At first, it seemed the fire only burned for itself the wax dripped to the table and formed little ponds on which the shadows of that flame would dance the singular spark of something inexplicable not important really but for the singular reason that it couldn’t find another use for…

A poem in your footsteps — your mother found me pacing endlessly on an empty stretch of beach the rising tide turned the sand to mercury well, not scientifically anyway, I waited for her for you soaked to the bone in my bathing suit freezing and sad before she arrived I was just one of the manifold…

Pandemonium poem “I was birthed restless and elsewhere” — Patricia Smith, “Katrina.” They swept us away, those wakeless waves our bones caverned, bodies brittle, curved stiff where did we start when the storm began? ‘cause yeah, we existed before he merged us into his vortex, his entropy, his ultimate truth …

Here is how (I think) it happened. — It’s my bachelorette weekend in New York. We’re taking shots. I haven’t done that in a while. Suddenly we’re at a bar with 90s music blaring, and I’m flailing to Shaggy. My friend hands me a double shot of something (Gin?), thinking I’m too sober. Really, I’m just good at…