red riding hoodMy poor feet cannot stop
bewitched, like in a fairytale, cursed:
they cannot stop, so I walk and walk and walk

as if my head is no longer in charge
as if my heart might burst from
beating and beating and beating

This golden hour: cresting the hill
breathing molten light and
air electric between twin storms

air so clear it crackles in my lungs
Was I sleeping too long?
Where am I?

A wolf’s dogging my footsteps,
I hear him, throaty and relentless
breathing and breathing and breathing

maybe I’ve wandered into another realm?
Even my shadow, once so faithful, has turned away
nothing is the same anymore.

Tell me a story

floating leaf

Tell me a story

You say, and I begin again.
The beginning, always my favorite part
sweet on my tongue, fleeting

But I am ever hopeful
digging now for middles and ends
that are deeper and darker

And boiling with life, like the depths
of a sea where lampreys
sway like seaweed, and dance

In the current and swallow
the silvery trout who swims too deep—
you might say the trout dies

Or you might say they become one?
There is no ending, is there?
It’s all a loop, this story—

It’s as endless as the sea evaporating
graying blue skies, falling again, rain, rain
pocking the choppy waves

Feel the spray on your face, wet as
the spit in your mouth, the blood in your veins
salty as the tears brimming

Below the surface, unshed, underneath
Tell me please, what really separates above from below?
If I dive in, will you swallow me whole?