The Lasting Hunger of Stars

The Lasting Hunger of Stars


Everyone thinks of love.

Everything seems to be about love.

I dream about kissing

the stars and the ground.

Where we cast our air and tread upon.

I’d like to think I write

something other than food

that becomes the nesting of safety.









A sad poem about conversations, just something I observed and a character formed.


Maybe if I’m still enough

I can float on conversations.

Maybe when there’s an opportunity

I won’t wait.

Maybe if I didn’t judge too hard

on myself, I’d talk in fragments.

Maybe if I start talking about what everyone likes

Maybe they’ll like me too?






Can I have some on the side

and give me some honey.

Mix it with the vinegar

and the mustard seed.

Paste on your skin and

beam in the sunlight

We pretend we are the sun

and color ourselves with rays of gold.

Let’s get old and brown.