Sometimes every line, stanza, and poem feels like it could be the last.

Fairly short

Can't stop checking the forecast

Remember that your infinity is finite

Getting ready for Spring already

I was a spot of blue paint Dripping along a vast, empty canvas

Inspired by a conversation with a friend about the likelihood of all of our matter eventually reassembling after death.

See for yourself

More free verse. Inspired by O'Hara and my social shortcomings.

Little verse for y'all

Cellar spiders can detach their legs when threatened. Enjoy.