You hold your head high

on a neck stiff with the starch of arrogance;

you may live at an elevated altitude,

but your collar is as blue in the shade as any other,

your substance is as much dust as mine.

If you will own your weaknesses,

embrace the molecules

which bleed when torn,

perhaps –

perhaps our souls could

fill the same sea,

our waves could curl on distant shores

and make of foreign pebbles

a new form of


You Say You’re Broken


You say you’re broken.



You say you long for lofty places

but you’re stuck here in the trenches.

What if falling

was the first step in rising?

What if breaking

set you free to evaporate and soar?

What if your damage

and misplacement

and confusion

were the aqua-duct

to the world’s Water Cycle?

You say you always dreamed of living on a rooftop –

what if you were meant

to join molecules on the moon?

Until you let go

of what you say,

can you be?