DIEHARD

i’m ashamed

how attached

i am to my image –

how slowly i pass 

by windows and mirrors,

post all those posed moments 

online, engage in constant self-

evaluation: how’s the jawline?

i can see stark focus is no longer

my ally. i’ve become better off

touched up like an aging celebrity:

and let's face it,
my only diehard fan is me.

WHEN YOU FINALLY COME OUT

as a poet you may lose friends
not to mention the respect
and trust of other men. oh,
fear of verse is real, poem-a-phobia
so palpable you might feel
like an electric eel: the mass of
men flee from sentiment and
seek spaces less public
to drown their gloom.

THE APOLOGY

sunrise is
the apology
the earth makes
for sleepless nights,
the return of grace
to a world endlessly
turning away
from itself, hiding
from the truth.