although I am still young in mind well as body or at the very least deluded enough can imagine that to seem true regards Gerardo

-for the one who listens I look to you vowing my hate when of course I mean I love you and it came out wrong,

After the disappointment, after the nights bent over pillowcase gritted between teeth, jarred out of illusions as I clenched— on the silky sheets of our

Your words were nectar sweet the first time we met. You were a gentleman, a self-proclaimed scholar, you had a way with words. Those words

She said, “You have a way with words.” But too often my words just get in the way. So, I jump from line to line

We should learn the library secrets. Be available 9 to 9. Let people browse through us. Be free to the general public. Index ourselves in

In Kensington market, full of small purveyors of meats and vegetables, of soaps and leathers, and roti shops, and pho restos, and bubble tea spots,

grit of silt and sand skin on skin, smell real time, taste, touch messy dishes, an unmade bed. imperfect, mundane another workday, a lawn to

She’s spending her nights              exactly how she wants to                    

How do you hold someone who is made of air? You are nothing but wisps of imagination and words of ink, But not to me,

From the ground rose packets of mist and the moon hung low over treetops. As rolling clouds drift past, stars emerge from hiding and crickets

When I tell her that my late partner’s dying wish for me was to find another great love, she asks, without hesitation, why she should

lonely people always recognize each other as if they were from the same place sad people always know each other as if they kept the

its light cast a frightening blue over  fine print never proofread, a contract  up for renewal. Language long dead   revived by a crescent moon: You

In the back flap Of my billfold Three leaves, Three tufts of cypress Pressed, soft, One for us each, From that first taste Of wild,