about the author - poetry - casa - journal

there is an edge to your words
the sort of edge that can curl my thoughts
methinks you have a little too much power (over) these things
like nature, like air, like space
they weave themselves over and expand
to fit you in

you are an unspoken god
an adonnis before the fall
and I know
the only thing running through your head these days
is a mix of fruit-fly buzzing
with the supposed ophelia-driven cry to a heretic's deity
escaping on the days when lines blur