A Poppy in October

Is it death we fear, or the leaving before knowing love? Are there that many fields of students that go missing high up in the mountains, while following along some trail, waging war on themselves just to learn an answer: that loves’ greatest peak is where we allow ourselves to let go of the ones…

The Loving Honesty of Heartbreak (in 5 poems)

I won’t act like I know what love is or write so certainly of it.  I know I have, and do often think of it, but so far every grand epiphany reminds me how vast of a concept love is.  I can speak of heartbreak and the beautiful breaking down the parts of ourselves to…

The Sound of a Door Closing (Pt. I)

  Just yesterday, though it wasn’t the first time, a parent stopped me on my way out of the school to ask how I was doing.  Had it been the first time, I may have stopped and stayed there to give her a more sincere answer.  I probably wouldn’t have replied with only a curt…

enough

  Right now, there is that compelling drive to make those twenty-something hours to Tennessee, to run along the low-hum of dreary mountains into New England and on over to New York, To take my time coming back, through the quiet rocky forests To all those pieces of my heart I left behind in each…

When it Works

I’ve never doubted sowing seeds that is, since learned that, no, not all of them will make it, place two or three in every hole. I’m not afraid when nothing comes up. It’s when things work, when choosing which one will grow, which others will go, knowing There is terrible hardship ahead, nothing but sweating,…

Braver Places (Memorial Day)

There are the times when someone makes a choice that lends to new places and responsibilities.  There is that persistent a sense of dread and excitement  that illicit itself all throughout the body, simultaneously.   Recently, I’ve been reserved to the idea of how change might work on my body, mind, and soul, but then…

Later Down the Road

Take the road Down to the end of the drive There’ll be an ivy-grown house where I know things keep slow   Where a kitchen settles for eggs and toast, And old news keeps the basement full,   Where the houseplants fill up the windowsills To watch the seasons change, singing mute songs   With…