“I have no trouble with belief / but doubt often that something believes in / me, the way wanting to does much / more for others than faith…”

“Some unseen force keeps putting my foot in / my mouth instead of a foreign tongue, so / much for that Portuguese husband I’ve been / wanting, lounging…”

“Built like a fever the way I burn, / a wicked apocalypticism / in the body turns them all against / every emotion passing through / me, heat spinning…”

“Taming the beast eclipsing every / page with ink, I fall—call on Zadkiel, / weakened—fearing the very love I have / been seeking. Keeping concealed from…”

“Every window reminds me we begin / in exile, smiles frosting into violence, / a consequence of guns and crosses / rawing men, literary gypsies slipping in / and…”