ghosts in a slideshowghosts in a slideshow5 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
the skysick sun, fading woozy, throwing up.
dripping on the backs of conveying camels.
bodies of water, yes, every touch moves through.
grassland often. skinny belly atop the garden hill's slope.
train-track thap-thapping. smile, God's tap dancing on a saturday sundown.
you're watching the show frontrow. i'm watching you.
i say, "those mistakes on your arm look nice in this light." but i don't. not aloud.
instead i say, "do they hurt when it's cold?"
and you say, "it's not cold right now."
so i say, "i didn't notice." but we don't. not aloud. not allowed.
so i say, "you look hurt." no. i say,
"you look pretty."
yeah. i said that.
then you looked at me. then you cried. because i'm a liar. only to you.
i mean, to you only, i am a liar.
i mean you see me as a liar.
but you know what? everything's alright in my mind.
and that's good for me for now.
"hey, V?" that's what you said.
"yeah?" i said.
"where are we?"
"we're here, dear. we're right here."
tell me i'm lying. tell me there's a me a
Lilt Hubris But LovinglyLilt Hubris But Lovingly4 years ago in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
I shake the most when I've never felt stiller than a mountain of laundry flattered by the detachment of fastening my jacket before dying feigns the sheets wonder of bed life like before the linen shelf was filed or lightheaded domination died in the drying of people as special as you're making my feeling like a car salesman in a Plato costume we're seeing through and through seeing the bonafide fibers and stupid gold chains of the softest names for real hardness parting reigns so we're black horses waving back to tunnel ending strangers so like life that the translucence is sucking death off our shadow for new grossness's beginning fresh as baby's supernova so murmurous of the purpose poised in my superfluous point of speaking from the peak of Whateverest that I bet nothing ever better than a wet bone to gnaw was never left alone to press bare paw right against the raw stone so I let her know it's a dog feeling patience like panacea is knowing the weather and when to be or not to be al
Butterfly BreathI caught raindrops in my palm,Butterfly Breath4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Standing on rough sand
And watching the ocean swell
With the fresh, new water of Spring.
The air tasted of salt,
Lilacs, and something forgotten
Lingering in my brain
Just above my spinal cord.
The boy was there,
Holding the sky in his palms
And weeping- always the same
That was when I realized it was a dream.
"Who are you?" I called.
He dropped the sky,
Blue shattered and the rain stopped.
"Don't break your wings."
He warned in a voice the colour
Of sunset poppies.
"Don't break them, or"
The waves crashed and he was gone.
I stood alone again on the sand,
Blue sky fragmented at my feet.
My wings fluttered in the wind.
I held up my hand for the rain to return,
And a monarch butterfly, regal,
Precise in every movement,
Alighted on my fingertip.
"Don't break your wings." It warned.
Its eyes were black as snakes.
"Who are you?" I cried.
"Why do you always leave me?"
The butterfly crumpled,
Dissolving as the rain returned,
Salty as the ocea
The Washboard WindBody mimics water motion--The Washboard Wind4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
laundry skin, white wash, sweat,
your ribs are the hull of a ship
and heave night-breath. Bones
touch one another, unknowing
of their existence and you're scared
of the soundless swell in you.
You're no pirate. Don't fight this.
Mail-Order Childhood [Age: 5]Mail-Order Childhood5 years ago in Stories & Vignettes More Like This
Everybody's talking, but the room is quiet.
The lights above glow with the warmth and luster of a dozen plump candles. Soft, yet radiant enough for me to see the nebulae in my father's eyes, even from so far away. There were neither props nor backgrounds, save for the children in costumes and the little STOP sign choking in my nervous grip. I had no choice. The show had begun.
My class sat in squealing tin chairs as we took turns prancing up to the mic to say our lines, just how we remembered them. The boy in the full-body milk carton had the most lines, the proud prick. But it was after his fifth when I was the next up. I squeezed hard and tried not to trip as I stood and made my way to my five seconds of fame. Mouth before mic, I held up the sign: STOP. The world seized spinning and the air was shot dead.
Heartlandtonight I will fallHeartland4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
asleep in the vineyard while
my hair is still damp
from kissing you in
The Rhine: 'I want to
swim down the center of it
and not know if the
water I'm drinking is französisch
I don't write about
you to stop from glorifying you.
the way you laugh
when my hands start shaking.
I tell you how fond I am of empires.
I want you to baptize
me king in the red and white
wines of the coronation fountain.
we don't have a language.
we are a language.
'knight' is a synonym
for 'always drowning'
and when I come to
bed I breathe in wheat
instead of grapes from you.
tonight I will fall
asleep in the vineyard while
my hair is still damp
from kissing you in
to the gentle thrum of
the sparrows under my
In the Year of Our Lord 1921Aug. 2In the Year of Our Lord 19218 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Two weeks out.
This far north
the sun barely touches the horizon
before it rises again.
No wind now for three days.
We have not seen the skipper since friday night,
but we can hear him screaming from his cabin:
"The sea has many gods!"
The sea is oddly calm;
his voice carries for miles.
This morning we dragged up
the bloated corpse of a sea lion.
The first mate stared long at its body
before he decided that it was not a mermaid
and we threw it back overboard.
The holds are empty still;
our nets drag useless behind us.
Cook says he hears bells in the distance.
He has been drunk for days.
The galley smells like stale bread and trench-death.
The skipper has gone silent now;
there is only waves against the keel,
and the first mate leaning on the wheel.
He mumbles foreign names
and stomps his heavy boots on the deck
to keep us awake.
We have not slept for weeks.
The wind is
argument The last time I spoke with you, it was like breathing underwater. My lungs were filling up, so that thin words kept swimming out of my mouth and I coughed up phrases that didn't make sense. Every speck of twisted logic you managed to shout suddenly fit, and I found myself wondering if you had been right all along. It was too bright. You were too loud. I didn't know what to say, and the fish were swimming all around me and brushing my shivery arms and my skirt was floating and freezing my bare legs. My hair was seaweed. My tongue was salt. I was not as pretty as a mermaid.argument8 years ago in Biography & Memoir More Like This
I'm not sure how, but underwater you were the most sensible person alive or dead. Your arguments, usually ridiculous, rang strong and true and made me look like a stupid foolish little child. My retorts were sloppy and ill-re
Dr. Moses recommends...life is aDr. Moses recommends...5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
film is a
thought is a
ghost is a
time is a
loss is a
golden ingredientsminneapolis hadgolden ingredients5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
eyes so blue
I couldn't sleep
wanted to wander
lose myself in her
but memory's unmade
dreams depart with
I ate up pavement
like a twin city
and though I left
before you loved me
I couldn't ask
for a better way
to fill my hours
four sinsI.four sins8 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
when the stars were so bright it hurt,
i fought a battle
to pull the light back into your eyes.
three weeks and a coma later your lips moved
forming a red stain in the air - "jesus," you said, "jesus."
i tried my hardest to understand.
please turn on the radio
and drag it to your grandmother
in the room with dusty light and dusty blankets,
she'll hear the dusty grit of static voices
from the old days
she will fall absolutely in love again,
feeling the crunch of an apple and touch of a kiss
on teenage teeth
guilt is the eighth sin
tears you apart with knives and daggers
and a satisfied smile -
i rebuilt frankenstein's monster
inside myself, all for you
the origin of tweed coatsthe origin of tweed coats7 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
tailors, surgeons, homemakers
keep the human closet covered:
violet knitted hearts, corduroy veins
and this tucked in your pocket
adjust the place of something old
and add, add, add
like a mathematician
stuck on one sum
take this tweed patched to pinstripe
thread up and through
through fabric, and prick -
the first mistake and ebb of red
prick, prick, prick -
let me, your mother says,
pins between lips,
fingers knitting thread
through brown and blue
XXXI - the difference of a dayToday I knot my hair in a braid,XXXI - the difference of a day8 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
pat the envelope of you, which waits
to be opened; just a sphere of skin,
held beneath my beating breasts.
Yesterday he told me the buttons
of my spine were beautiful
and ran fingers over them
just to see me come undone.
Today I walk toward news,
my feet lift and fall -
there are three of us, breathing
Yesterday I held you,
only to feel your kick
carving lines in my palm;
together, we're a pattern.
Today I sit and watch my words
shudder as the authorities speak
statistics. But you're only one
line etched across my belly.
Today I drink to fate and forgiveness -
lime cordial and wafers. He stands behind
my arching shoulders and knows how you whittle
me. I am finely boned but breaking.
A Rebirth of Sky and SeaA Rebirth of Sky and Sea4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Your memory carried me through countless nights
Nothing more than a glorified incubus
Your serpent words wrapping there way around my heart
We both need to move on, fellow lost soul,
The coming dawn waits for no one.
I'm only your princess when no one else is looking
A pet trained to come when your lonely.
I can't wait forever for you to make up your mind
The fading night leaves everyone behind.
I would have been your everything if I only had a chance
But we are young and your heart wanders while I look on
My wounds heal, your poison drains away leaving a clear mind
With my face to the rising sun, I am born.
It is your turn to wake up Lord of dreams and wishes
My hands once reached out to you, craving the feel of your skin
Bitter reality waits to greet you as I walk away with few glances back
The moon sets and a young girl dies.
Hours spent missing what never was is a heavy burden
My shoulders feel free once again and I pray you find the same peace
The fissures and cracks in a young he
My Grandmother's GardenMy Grandmother's Garden8 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
My Grandmother's Garden
We used to ease peacefully
It was less a resignation
Than a contented yielding
To vintage color...
First in trees
And then beneath our feet.
We entered winter intrepidly,
Believing yet in redemption,
We used to behold
The winter as it was
At the moment we first
Witnessed the snow,
Burying our sleeping hopes
Beneath the quiet depths
And March was once the month
That would begin to wake
Lazy and slow
(But sometimes as surprising as snowdrops amidst the snow),
As the winter would finally let go.
Then, when we still
ShiverAn earthquake rolls across her skinShiver8 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
as green curtains reserve a space
for construction -
he looks at splattered bed sheets
and cradles a small shiver.
He inhales, holds the breath. Hands
calloused by supermarket boxes grip
the railing. Cord of blood and sweat
fused into life is taken into other,
more precise palms.
A hand on his shoulder whirls
him around - birth is burdened
into his arms. Black curls smell sweet.
He feels her hand envelope his as he
leans forward to kiss the wailing temple
turned an angry shade of red. She's
whisked away - to wash and dry.
A statue of bones -
becomes a colossal collapse.
what's yours is minesI imagine youwhat's yours is mines5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
unaware of the
in my gut
the piece of me
and another thing
what you're thinkin' 'bout
what you're thinkin' 'bout
and I guess
'cuz I'm all
filled up with
it takes the place
pressed up against
it fakes the shape
Stairwae to ElevenThere's so much sunny play this morning of May,Stairwae to Eleven8 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
who's April showers brought heavenly floral hours.
"Smile as Lips," say the pillars… "
"& to who say we sailing today;
we as Friend who happy to be as you to welcome this into place…
The Place where goodbyes caterpillar into hellos that forever sing as say,
(Harmonies nurturing bay)…
Cuddle and Pray…
Tonight became Today!?"