WinterWinter5 years ago in Concrete Poetry More Like This
When days are old
and turning cold,
and dusk fades to dark.
Then silently my soul embarks
to where twilight mourns
the Sun no more.
In starry skies
my heart now flies,
set finally free from Day's embrace.
With moonlight shining on my face,
icy winds blow violently
and Night rejoices silently.
My presence remarked by smoking breath,
in darkness where there hides no death.
And rest now fills my yearning soul,
the Night completes me, makes me whole.
In winter lies the coldest peace,
from deep within me: Life's released.
when i wantwhen i wake up,when i want5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
i want a thrill.
i want to have spiders crawling on my bed lamp,
my roof to be gone and the sun in it's place,
to wake up with a sweet boy,
whose name i've forgotten already.
after i die,
i want someone to figure out all the passwords to my accounts,
and post a lovely statement covering my death.
so my online friends won't worry,
or say that i've abandoned them.
when i'm older,
i want someone to know me.
i want someone to find my sites,
eat my words up with their eyes,
i want someone to take so many photos of me,
that i feel pretty,
i want someone to remember what i say,
and repeat it back to me when i'm sad or angry,
i want someone to hug me and whisper my own words back like a lullaby.
before i give birth,
i want the father to laugh and scream and cry with me.
i want the doctor to say he's happy to see me healthy,
i want my mother to be quiet,
and my brother to have his wife there with him,
so she knows how to handle it when it happens,
and i want to eat sushi and wat
I envy her soEvery time I read her wordsI envy her so4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
I'm left with shivers or
awe inspiring warmth-
down my curving spine.
Delicate or harsh,
my words in comparison
seem like broken wings
severed from bird bodies
while hers float on complete eagles.
Fact or fiction,
words of intrigue pound my sternum
and I cannot compare
to the way she reaches
into the chest and plays melodies.
She tremors ventricles.
Letters1) i wrote you a poem. or two. or something. i don't really know if you'll want them. you never liked poetry much, only mine. i always wonder how much you think about me. i'd like to imagine that you still do.. though i'm sure your life would be easier if you didn't have to. you know i'm sorry.. so sorry.. that's always the first feeling i get when i think of you. we were cursed from the start. and now, well what about now? it's not even really a fair question. you have a 'now' but i don't. you're just.. what i'm trying to say is.. i said always and i meant it. i still mean it. it's just that sometimes love isn't quite enough.Letters4 years ago in Letters More Like This
2) the songs didn't used to mean you, but all the sudden.. i don't think you will ever realize how much i've counted on you and how much you've let me down. inject and fuck yourself to jupiter and back and you know that i'll still believe whatever the hell you say when you come home. youknow that iknow that youknow and weknow that n o t h i n g
Universal TruthThe south pole sunUniversal Truth4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
looks as though she's been crying.
She is no actress.
When all her twelves snap back to ones
she hands clocks instead of handshakes.
Let's call it impersonality practice.
She waits, cross-legged on a ballroom floor.
Her ninety degree neck gives her skylight eyes
and they wonder
I promise, I thinkI love you, I promise.I promise, I think4 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
then again, i was always a good liar.
Maybe we just like believing..Tongue tripe,Maybe we just like believing..4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
with artificial spirituality.
We do what we think we should,
though they never said we could
and things just happen.
Convinced we had a vision,
though it only made sense
in dream sleep and wake sleep
and we can no longer coherently explain
our head above the clouds.
It's real, because we know.
Maybe we just need
the air life to fill us
once in awhile
whatever we can believe and
e x h a l e.
Just so you knowAnd I feel like my jaw is going to float right up through my brain. The night sky is going to drift through my lungs. My hair is going to spillJust so you know5 years ago in Philosophical More Like This
and my heart is going to vibrate right out of my chest.
Shattered SkyBroken cloudsShattered Sky4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
fall on my window,
denting it with wet,
I can smell the
hear the thunk-thud
of boots, the crunch of dead
feel the cold liquid soul
of the sky on my collarbone.
Yet I am here
hiding from out there.
Crash - shudder.
I will eat my inspirationAnd I knowI will eat my inspiration5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
that I want to forever
paint you inside me
Rest in my lungs
through my larynx
I need the little crevices
to be filled up with
the oxygen of your words
T H E S E S P A C E S I N S I D E
F E E L S O E M P T Y
colorless and insignificant
Rain on RosesI can't help but sit on my porch swing,Rain on Roses4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
rocking to the show tunes that play in my head,
drinking sunny d from the thermos you bought,
kicking distractedly at winter's first sparkles...
I want nothing more than to leave this snow-globe scene,
but the possibility of kissing your sidewalk boot-prints
instead of the flakes melting on the apples of your cheeks
scares me more than the thought of my flesh
Greying and wearing away, to add to the migrating
blizzard that's keeping the wary townspeople indoors.
What if I left.
If I skipped town,
filled a quaint farmhouse with laughing babies,
two cats and a businessman.
What if you never come back.
If you lose yourself,
and bury your memories of me
in your professionally-landscaped yard.
Will you keep whispering to them about me between your sheets.
Will I keep hoping that you do.
You know I'll love you f o r e v e r,
but loving and waiting are two different things.
Two different things that you've always managed to make te
You are loved.Time drips like dewdrops down whitewashed walls.You are loved.5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
And when its work is done, it gathers like
centuries around baseboards and swells,
poisonous like decades flooding fountains.
Fascinated, I watch as its tendrils
drown the walls the mordant years built
in an ocean of chances one moment took.
One moment was all we needed to see that
our timing was perfect, staring at
the same wonder of machine and blue sky.
I remember when we had connected, at one moment,
like a picture in a locket. I sent you my verse as
a prairie rocket, and one moment
I caught a glimpse of a reply,
a sprightly sunrise crossing a silent bridge.
I was locked in your eyes and infinite stillness,
and the starlings flew faster than ever, growing faster,
over a river flowing restrained desires.
I hit the surface, liquid glass shattering across my back,
and before death could count me
an angel lifted me into a graphite forest
and all was sunrise, once more.
The difference was, I listened to you
while the cars sang choral hymn
eudaimoniaThe last time I saw Jake was the night he picked a star out of the sky for me. I know that sounds like an impossible cliché. But he did it, I saw him. He reached into the heavens, and the light gray material of his sleeve collected mist like a fresh cut collects blood, the rustle in the celestial leaves, and the whisper that the wind blows, and he pinched a stara beautiful little mixture of hydrogen and noble gasesbetween his wearied, calloused fingers. When he tugged it free from the infinite infrastructure of the ether, like a tomato from the vine, it squealed. And stardust fell to our shoulders like pulverized bones glittered with snow. I winced and brushed the calcium waste off of my shoulders. Jake let it sink into his mop of soft blond hair as he delightfully licked sidereal curiosities off his lips, his cheeks flushed with wonder. Nothing mattered to him or to that little star. I like that its adorably helpless voice still rings across the universe, bouncing offeudaimonia4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
alienatecan we fight with wordsalienate5 years ago in Haiku & Eastern More Like This
or are we simply going to
kill ourselves trying
WHATEVER THE HELL THAT MEANSand i am an after-school-nightmareWHATEVER THE HELL THAT MEANS5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
rusting in ashes filled with lemonade wishes
dripping mad-woman words down your throat
filling the captivated void in your being
that lacks luster and finds joy in sorrow
i have my tongue stuck in my head
by a wad of gum that extends
from my cranium down my spinal column
your tracheal discomfort comes from
coughing up too many cotton balls
from my alphabet soup
What is ten? Blue.We are the ephemeral entities of insecurity & we slide across tundra psyches like secrets, stealing slivers of ice from faraway prototype clouds. We trek over kingdoms of guts & steel to validate our alchemy; we climb to the peak of strife to witness the death of eternal life.What is ten? Blue.4 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
The morning passes & we sit idle, watching the sun rise over the Atlantic Oceanthat infected gray eye that hides forever scarlet, flesh & bile under teardrops of minutes. We see its eyelid closing, perspiring lachrymose droplets of human spirit off onto the stoic shore. Leave it to two wayward saline molecules such as us to stay the same, as time ascends over matter & descends again under the weight of unsteady minutes. When adolescence bores us, we turn sinister, destroying worlds in the name of science. We scratch open time's skin, collecting samples of adrenaline & chaos, and subject it to our own selfish, anthropocentric manipulation.
You do the living while I do all the talking, and I don't mind, becau
HhhSo I'mHhh4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
i n g
out of my skin,
trying to feel one
with the light
separating from my
Loose threads Yesterday, I sent a letter in the mail that told the story of a life and all of its loose threads. I had written on plain white paper of my new house that looks over the Atlantic Ocean. I had described its pale blue shutters, the abundance of pleasant wildflowers in the backyard, and the sparrows that perch on the telephone wires, in extravagant detail. I had written of my new boy who keeps a guitar, an amplifier, and folded Wall Street Journals in the back of his station wagon, and I described how brilliant his red hair looks at that time in late afternoon when everything's golden. He knows about The Fountainhead and socioeconomics and caramel macchiatos, but since he inspires me, he offers me something worth so much more than the breadth of his knowledgethe promise that there is more yet to be discovered.Loose threads4 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
I had written on the paper's slightly rugged surface of the city and its
Tomorrow I'll watch a movieI have inked my eyelidsTomorrow I'll watch a movie4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
for your precious dust
and let that bulky man
play piano up my skirt.
I'll feel nothing tomorrow
after a jar of pills.
He's licking my neck,
time to forget before anything happens -
favorite t.v. show on at midnight -
a box of chocolates waiting - do my nails - take out the garbage.
Warm breath on my collarbone
and at least this wine tastes fine,
better than his usual tar tongue.
Wait. Breathe. Wait.
I can't look,
even though I already have.
The story of a lifeYesterday, I sent a letter in the mail that told the story of a life and all of its loose threads. I wrote on plain white paper of my new house that overlooks the Atlantic ocean. I described its pale blue shutters, the abundance of pleasant wildflowers in the backyard, and the sparrows that perch on the telephone wires. I wrote on paper with no lines of my new lover who keeps a guitar, an amplifier, and old Wall Street Journals in the back of his station wagon. I told how his brilliant red hair looks at that time in late afternoon when everything's golden. I wrote on the paper's slightly rugged surface of the city's progressive decline. I retold the horrors of a specific September morning, and how only millionaires can afford go to baseball games. But in the twenty-first century, all's still well out in the country. You can still get a good cup of coffee if you know where to go, and the fishermen still catch the sunrise in lakes up north.The story of a life4 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
It was a beautiful letter, let me tell you, a t
Strangerslook into my eyes--Strangers5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
see how i love you.
and vacate dreams
for this irrefutable thing,
this liquid light, this waking life.
you walk smoothly
on the strength of your legs,
you lean against what has been built,
this crescendo of frozen music.
we listen, and in exchange
have something to say.
but just look at me.
this silence is
our meeting place,
a tangerine arcade of memory,
bottles are throwing green light
and the solid corners,
clay and brick, stucco and ground stone,
with the amber wooden thirst of sight,
accelerate the pulse of our desires.
we are all going to die
but we get to live
a little first.
look at me--
see how I love you.