I learned in lecture
that of the halides,
Iodine is a better leaving group.
Sterics: it’s bigger.
It can better accommodate
a negative charge.
Iodine is happy on its own.
While fluorine,
it loves too intensely.
clutching it’s electrons
close to the nucleus
but eager to share.

To bond
is to feel complete.
F forms shorter, stronger bonds
as if to say,
Please hydrogen,
let me hold you
a little longer.

Yesterday I learned
why we are made
of carbon
oxygen
hydrogen
phosphorous
nitrogen
sulfur.
Good building blocks
are multivalent.
Too much longing
for one thing
would tear us
apart.

October 2011

1.
looking at the stars,
I want for us to live there,
but it is too cold.

2.
hear cello music
and imagine your lover
holding you tenderly

3.
I like that the whistle of the tea kettle stimulates you more than the caffeine.

4.
I didn’t know
I was looking at Cassieopeia.
Fortunately,
There’s an app for that.

5. The Kiss
And they kissed for so long
they became part
of the golden world

6.
dip your worries
in chocolate–everything
will be fine

November 2011

It was too humid,
the saturated air,
smothering skin.

Even the tall grass
was still, waiting to see
what the sky would do.

I was too eager
to claim happiness
as my own.

Like orange tips on oak leaves
the first day of August.
They reminded me
of henna crescents on a bride’s nails
a week before the wedding.

Don’t we know?
There is still much
left of summer.
To brides: there is still time
to change your mind.

Happiness is too heavy
for September clouds
and they dropped their arms
apologetically,
rain falling in torrents.

December 2011

We smile sweet. We
don’t eat. We

tell tales. We
get males. We

paint pain. We
judge Jane. We

go home. But we
alone. We

wear heels. We
don’t feel. We

crave eyes. We
disguise.

December 2011

The longer you stare
at the sky,
the more stars
you see.

Everything is more.
Sighs are louder.
Laughter is lovelier.
Blood is warmer.

Tonight,
beyond the street lamps
and marquees
and neon: “Sorry We’re Closed”
silver threads shimmer
in the Heavenly brocade.

In the intimacy
of an indigo harem,
stars cast away
veils.

November 2011

She dealt her pretty words like blades
to strike
the gut, the temple
the tender spot
above the collar bone
with a force
that left you aching
for more.

She wore her pretty smile like pearls
sensuously about her neck
and dangling from her ears.
There was no knowing
their smoothness
in your own fingers.

She kept her thoughts on shelves
like porcelain from Spain
and glass perfume bottles from Egypt–
out of reach–
for you to prove
you are adroit enough
to feel their weight
in your hands
and not let them fall.

December 2011

pink bed sheets–
soft from washing–

catch some sunlight
of the fading day

through the window–
I can see

runners on the track
chase it too

September 2011