Zhuangzi’s Dream in the Third Wave of the Pandemic

When I can’t sleep, fluttering awake from old and new worries, bad dreams, I try to count to a thousand by sevens.  Just enough concentration to slow my heart  to a gentle opening, closing,  as on a flower in the sun, safe, and all alone. I try to count until the...

The Anatomy of a Tweet

I need another metaphor  Something besides a Dissection. No more knives and blood. I’m built more for punchlines than poetry Where it’s all artless, easy imagery too on-the-nose anyway, Isn’t it safer to hang back play the lovable idiot In case It turns out I’m...

The Roaches Come in Through the Front Door

This building is so nice, clean and well kept, and yet your horrible, flat bodies fit just so under the door and you come in sniffing, tasting, seeking to touch all my stuff. I like to think I’m a tolerant person but I draw the line right here. Literally, with borax....

Proximity

Later, when this is all over I believe I would like to drag the back of my fingernail across the skin just above your elbow feel the press of your lips to the inside of my wrist catch the shell of your ear between my teeth and pull, just a little. Coat my palate with...

How I Figured Out Flirting is a PTSD Trigger

I Oh you were such a good sport Until pretty recently,  bulldozing my way through fear  had been a survival tactic  And you tried to let me work through it Right there in the middle of the Cheesecake Factory Over the driest club sandwich I’ve ever eaten But I do not...