[tabby title="Poem"] If you were a burning building,I would run in,have my skin dance with your flames,while others take swimming lessonsand worry if they bought the bestbrand of sunscreen. Even if the dead float better than the living,they are sunk...

[tabby title="Poet Bio"] Flatter than a quarterleft one a train track,I tried to typeabout my 42nd birthday cake,but instead of sweetening the pagewith metaphorical icing,I ended up staring at the blank whitenessand felt the weight of wordscrush me,until this poem...

[tabby title="Poet Bio"] Days marching by like an armydaydreaming about death,while we hide in our cellars,french-kissing peace,only to realize how toothlesslove can be when we're alone,fantasizing enoughto make our feet go to sleep,and the bombs prove they're realby separating arms...

[tabby title="Poet Bio"] Last year's rubber boots too small now,yet still hold the memory of you jumping in puddlesas I lost a staring contest with a grey sky-my eyes expecting lightning,but instead there was thunder, warning mehow one day you...

[tabby title="Poet Bio"] TV corpses the shape of closed books,barely big enough to fill a sheet,while a middle-aged married coupletalk in the dark about daysfar enough in the past to bluffas being more than just lost,and the politician on the...