All the poems featured on this page are excerpts from my two books The God-like Things (2021) and Moonhold (2019). All rights reserved. 

You can also read my {poem + story} series where I share new poems, art, stories, and my translations of old Slavic poetry.



    steel blue cool

    you said i have husky eyes
    and maybe almost i married you

    a train runs on steel blue
    eyes mirror my past life and maybe i use this
    to harness myself through the late nights

    don’t be afraid.
    the end was so far ahead it is already behind us
    just call it horizon, it’s narrowing dark times
    i arrive at the land of thousand fires
    this place feels like a person, this beckoning
    me towards itself so known, so clear
    a mystic letter lays in the centre of my palm

    it’s steel blue cool with grey wolf skies
    tempted kneeling to witness
    two tiny native
    snowdrops grow in shade

    venice in veils

    white snow fell
    it should have been veils on my shoulders

    a snow so white —
    it is scraping windows and shredding stars
    erasing streets and stairs
    i never knew how far we’d walked

    a snow so white …
    it should have been veils falling on my shoulders
    it should have been forever
    now only venice is in veils

    this is snow, this is snow

    and this snow is so white, it is red
    and the red cardinal is here
    and the red snow begs for ink
    snowdrops get here before me
    maybe spring really is near

    how can life forget?
    i am holding a pulse
    pumping imprints, shaping skins

    and there are loves
    greater than all other loves and forevers
    i’ll know them only when i am a mother

    my prince of blue

    because the frail wing
    trembling in black possessive mud
    is a voice stranded by words and
    the night eats words

    i walk towards it sharpened by desire
    sometimes it seems human

    maybe this is the only way
    for my pillow to keep its gentle spell of dreams

    because i need a place where i can hold you

    you should know
    i’ve become every altar across three continents

    you should know
    i’ve become every animal you’ve left behind

    my prince of blue
    night is better
    i am afraid, glorious
    and ethereal
    water is poseidon and
    the sky opens its mouth wide of fireflies
    i land cool rain of thousand fires
    in ash we are born

    sometimes this place feels almost human

    tuck away this moon behind my ear

    tuck away the moon behind my ear

    aura of royal blue
    butterflies migrating south
    & each word is longer, further
    away from where you are

    if i ever forget you i’ll know i’ve gone too far

    somewhere on the radio
    is how i feel about you
    is our summer afternoon
    leftover flowers gather on the side of the road
    each window carries its own
    little rain
    night car
    in winds and wants
    designing skybreaks
    because the full moon is children’s book gigantic tonight

    and maybe it’s the impossibilities that
    make us so possible

    so come your eyes & tuck away this moon behind my ear

    dear stone garden

    dear stone garden: you smell of magnolia
    damiana, sweet orange and rose

    yesterday he built me a country
    where he stretched his long shadow and
    i laid flat where i could sleep
    (there may be mud on the carpet tonight)

    i lazy the bed to question my ego
    i throw love when loyalty undoes me
    press ancient truth into my palm like fortune
    for the future i know i begin

    i say to the dark, look
    everything is shifting into something else
    of river’s fate and human time
    as every earth goes round his moon

    dear stone garden: he’s a night possessor
    but life is just souls changing clothes
    the carpet will have mud tonight because
    there is a nightingale in my heart

    changing woman weaving house

    the woods are waiting for me tonight, dear stone fruit:

    so i run fast over the wild land of returning paths
    destiny chasing my heels, i enter
    changing woman weaving house
    where the otherworld is everywhere

    weaving the integrity of emeralds, sacred lovers
    tenderness in tents and the souls of the thousand white wolves
    and so i weave, dear stone fruit:

    to intuit fire i
    am moon water i
    am white shell

    and so we weave, dear stone fruit:
    clouds into winds, tides for the fishermen
    lyric of hearth and the seed of the eagleman
    weaving, spinning the ever creating
    web of wyrd

    under the constant beat of the only sound there is:
    of love

    of hands and marriage

    his hands are an old marriage
    wrinkles of care and i sink into folds
    of touch is touch, years in the making
    holding on holding strong
    but even strength is fragile

    i hold steadfast under strain
    but i too need to be held

    and this is how we loved
    years of lines connecting other lines
    on palms lines stay and other lines
    circle like courting hawks

    but the most beautiful part of hands is where they touch now

    and now is not too late
    and tomorrow is also
    not too late

    sweet child of mine

    sweet child of mine,
    i know you worry but look around

    twilight shadows have fallen tucking in the earth
    and the night is busy too as she wraps stars
    into the hair of the goddess moon who is preparing
    to dance in lushness with princes from distant lands

    so lay your head in peace, sweet child of mine
    close your eyes as the earth is closing hers too
    take refuge in the quiet corner of your heart
    and know that tomorrow the laugh of
    the sun’s cheerful head will wake us up again

    and i will take your hand
    and we’ll figure it out then

    november falls

    november falls and like deep magick,
    it smells of cold amber, cold enough
    to hold us to absolute honesty
    i walk sharpened by desire to follow
    red hawk and wolf for half a moon
    along the tender edges, where

    something else begins

    sometimes trees grow far too wide to hide us
    from our eyes but when love comes,
    it comes rushing in like ocean
    wrapping our world in weightless
    blue, a kind of levitation, sublimation
    hunter and hunted marry barefoot
    in the deep wet black soil, the land remembers
    the feet of those who fed it with kindness
    when no one was watching
    and the uncompromising drumming of the human heart
    begins our bodies

    of intentional dialogue, of how
    we always chose love

    of how some tales can only be fully dreamt
    when flames rise high inside the hearth
    into trust and safety we settle soft
    like rocks against the river streams
    and it smells of oak burning, amber
    and appleskins

    what’s left of this loosens
    water takes it away

    no less purposeful
    no less needed
    no less loved

    to be seen

    it is vulnerable to be seen
    especially when trembling
    i say to the lamppost as
    it sees me be seen

    and the distance
    as if
    in a dream
    opens – you are there
    you watch me watching you watch

    it is the possibility
    of dreams that gives my heart no rest

    and sometimes i don’t even know i am here
    until i see you holding me

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