Tell Me A Story

A Poet's Journey

New beginnings should always involve an element of the unattainable as inspiration.


Various Arrondissements Where I Find You

4 ème- She sat on the steps to Agudath Hakehilot in the Marais. I was coming to meet her for lunch and she waved with her black mittens when she saw me round the corner off Rue des Rosiers. It’s unseasonably cold for January and she told me she’s sweating on the inside. We discussed where we should eat and she tapped her toe to the sound of woodwind instruments. There is a parade nearby and we cannot hear each other speaking. I leaned my head against hers so I could arrange t

Cave Atlas: Field Notes For Finding You

If I tell you how I know you, then you’d know all about chalk and stone walls and what this story looks like from the ground up. You might laugh like I’m full of it or think that I dreamt some crazy story about the way we connect in lines and waves and you’d be partially right. This is a real dream, not the kind you have when you stare too long at the milk in the bottom of your cereal bowl or that shimmering spot in the road up ahead. No, this one doesn’t have missing sequenc

Swimming Towards The Vestibule of Truth

impermanence all around you say like you’ve bought a round of drinks for friends at a party in your honor. Connect the new faces at dinner with insecurity and unrehearsed prayers, chanted quietly in mixed verse. Thirty six is the number of years you’ve traversed roads that ultimately end in a series of sloppy victories headed towards the drain of success and nerdy black eyeglasses that keep you there amongst the bottom-dwellers. I damage the image belle of the isle now flitti

Obscure Images Of Your Muse

1. she was always caught in the shutterbug’s spherical aberration. She emerged from its clutches a flawed subject. Blood pulsing through her veins distracted you from the reality of her pale skin tone, her fading smile. Over-exposure never helps one to conquer the hard edges. She’s blurry and fragile without the liquid serum that exists only in your hidden crevices. 2. She salvages domestic energy. It allows for lingerie to leap onto the floor with strangers. Lying in old she

I'm An Expert At Confessions

I’d love to steal one of your brother’s vintage cars and go for a spin. If I said come with me, we could be re-fashioning old, fearful things, like what people say if you mark me as your theft, or pay allegiance to my mouth by placing yours on mine. This topless bikini and your myopia keep missing the positive consequence of togetherness. I am used to a place made of fences and lemon groves and cowboy boots made for kicking things out of the way like these feelings we share,