Poems

The following poems are more like fragments of poems. They're not fully formed. They are the product mostly of automatic writing. of moments of pain that are transformed into language. Their fragmentation is part of their power because grief is unspeakable, it cannot be communicated except through incoherence, broken sentences, and the incomplete thought. My poems are like debris, salvaged ruins, reminders of what is absent and lost.

I'm not interested in being seen as a good poet. Above all, I am writing for my life, writing against silence, against death, writing so that my voice will be heard.

***

Tell me
this will end
No, you cannot
say it
because
it never ends.

***

"Live," they say
but there is
no life
without you

***

I am
in the darkness
My thoughts of you
are the light

***

I am dying
because
you are dead

***

Move on?
But how?
To where?
No!
Move towards
go in
with a light
and pen
probe the wound
(Mina Loy wrote)
and show
what you grieve

***

Grief is
Grendel
come to
eat you alive
to destroy
your home