If you are given a chance to be your own god...
Like, you could create yourself not out of dust...

This is my ghost in the guise of a poem.
Read it without grief in your heart...

like a haunted house
that is up for rent...

Or at least someone
who looks like you...

If I were you, I wouldn't have forgiven myself.
I wouldn't have the patience to wait and see what...

One of my earliest childhood memories is of Father
frothing at the mouth, spreadeagled on the side of...

The pieces of the puzzle fit
but the picture tells a different story...

People have a tendency to prefer things that which...
How many blue moons has it been since we last...

I hear
a young girl calling out...

There are people you have yet to meet
who would feel threatened by your silence...

We shovel stardust
into our mouth...

This year began
with a poetic yawn...