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Someday This Will All Be Gone
Time tends to create an opaque membrane | with more limited optical clarity | behind the lenses of eyes | that automatically adjust for distant targets
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Sonnet after Sylvia Plath’s “Metaphors”
This house of fine fruit, melon | the yeast tendrils I’ve eaten | a two train riddle | boarded new-minted apples | in a loaf’s bag | with O syllables: | off, on. No big–
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Ground Cherry
Outside, a July sky | above the weedy meadow | amid stalks of golden rye | I bow to you. “Hello, | from what cold, clear bottle did you pop
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How Brief, Yet How Full
How brief, yet how full that first encounter | between you in your prime and me in my | secondhand life. | Hello, treasure hunter, would you like to dig through this box of mine?
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Sober Winter
Waiting on a slow line at dinner hour | air hunger befalls me, symptomatic | of nothing less than a moral panic. | Life’s too short for gas station flowers and boxed wine
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Black Friday
On looking over my harvest field | To see what crop my life might yield | I was amazed to find its state | For I had left it to its fate
HOW TO NAVIGATE THIS SITE
okaypoetry.com is a portfolio site with a clean and simple design that prioritizes the reader experience.
The front page starts with my most recent work and dates back to 2012. To help readers filter this abundance of content, I add categories and tags to every post. All posts fall into one of two categories, Poetry or Prose. Poetry is poetry and prose is a hybrid of personal essay and literary journalism. Tags identify posts by topic (self/identity, nature) and type (rhymed, unrhymed, free verse, form).
okay poetry 