We are a culture of tired optimism, screaming happiness to hide the disillusion of disappointed expectations. Spread your wings. Aim for the stars (you might hit the moon!). You can be anything you want to be.

First published 2012 in The Ivy Leaves Journal of Literature and Art, vol. 86, p. 64-67.

Kilometers

north of home,

sunlight echoes

off glaciers, far

from the sea-

winds of Moss

First published 2012 in The Ivy Leaves Journal of Literature and Art, vol. 86, p. 59.

I could tell you about magnolias,

their cones on the ground, closed

like dozens of doors, sharing

their scent of limes and pine needles.

First published 2012 in The Ivy Leaves Journal of Literature and Art, vol. 86, p. 69.

We clutch our coats and watch the clouds unroll

the night. My jeans soak up the sky’s first thought

of dew, and shadows gather for a full

moon. Against the sky, trees stretch, branches taut

while darkness bays behind the treeline’s fence.

First published 2012 in The Ivy Leaves Journal of Literature and Art, vol. 86, p. 108.

I had no experience robbing bookstores. And that’s all I have to say in my defense.

First published in 2012 in The Ivy Leaves Journal of Literature and Art, vol 85, p. 22-26.

I remember you from college,

the girl who baked cupcakes

and laughed through her nose.

You don’t know this, but I mocked

you then, while I ate your cupcakes

with all our friends.

First published in 2021 in The Ivy Leaves Journal of Literature and Art, vol 85, p. 33.

By the broken wall they fed

the chipmunks and listened

to the last train leave St. Almo.

It was too late in the year

to expect any tourists,

too early in life to give up.

First published in 2021 in The Ivy Leaves Journal of Literature and Art, vol 85, p. 13.