January 24, 2011



(To the bystander,

it feels like a baptism.)



January 19, 2011

again my mind settles on snowdifts,

white whales in brine,

ocean bound.

January 8, 2011

i treasure the few good memories between us, how few nights and days spent together, counting the times you might smile or laugh.

i am a student in the anatomy of your body, remembering every blemish, mark and scar.

your small hands, each nail– the lines of each fingerprint, seem terrifying. vast and unknown.

January 6, 2011

she’s got her face pressed up against the glass, and I imagine: nose pressed like a button to the partition–

breath fogging, tiny beads of moisture, precipitation.

what can command that kind of rapt attention? layers to be stripped away and laid out, undisguised.

January 4, 2011

I hold my days tightly,

my dreams,


even closer.

January 3, 2011

when i’m with you,

it feels like,


i’ve paid up my debts–

my heart

January 2, 2011

double street lights into building blocks,

one, two, three steps towards the doors in winter,

the smells, the crack beneath the wood a narrow light–

call you, hand in hand with the wind and the cold, dry air.


and here, you look out over the skyline,

broad line, and

i am like a star in the vast sky, swallowed up

in your smile.

January 1, 2011

here and now

we usher in our new year

champagne in our glasses, glass lights and glass smiles.


i am thinking of cars, cold hands and flashing lights,

the ugly curve of your mouth,

small hands resolute,


new years marking time, where

each second i crave you more.