WinterthingWinter does a thing to you, makes a thing of you,
shells you from the worldly smells and pulls you under
heavy blankets of dark and snow.
Nothing is as real
as the dreams you cut your sun-shaped holes in
when the light is out.
Let's sleep together, everyone.
By the fire, by moon.
Let's sleep together.
PressureSomething broke.Pressure3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
A hard CRACK while sitting in
a soft chair. No pain registered.
The absence of it
is like watching explosions in space.
You follow the curve of your skull. You remember
how skulls are formed like tectonic plates.
Your head wants to be a planet,
volcanic, living, in change.
You continue to your left shoulder,
the one with all the problems.
But today, it has nothing to say.
Your rib cage moves
like oceanic waves, expecting a storm
that hasn't come.
You stand up,
you consider your legs,
nothing feels wrong,
But you can break
more than your body.
The day the leopards diedAlarm clock - check!The day the leopards died7 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
The city humdrum - check!
The noisy guy upstairs - check!
The sound of running water - check!
The angry woman on the phone - check!
The furtive cat legions, stray, spoiled - check!
The wars on TV, clamorous, onerous, futile - check!
The shadowy stalkers returning to their hideouts - check!
The mother, worrying about offspring whereabouts - check!
The birds - a farrago of doves, gulls, sparrows, crows - check!
The dogs - spaniels, Great Danes, retrievers, pomeranians - check!
The plumber, wanting money for that job he never completed - check!
The bugs, the critters, the noises behind the walls, the eyes in your kitchen sink -
Check, check, check!
Everything accounted for, I look outside and find no leopards.
You would think that this was natural. This is not
leopard country, but I feel their absence elsewhere, and
I wonder why all the city eyes look inward.
So I walk.
I cut into the sunshine
and sail the concrete waves into
the green - no leopards, into
the blue - n
The inertia of obsessionDot the connects.The inertia of obsession4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Puzzle the pieces.
Riddle every solution
with the lapses of your logic.
Close the door.
Close it again.
It's still open, close it again.
It's closed, descend to the street.
It's still open, close it again.
You know it's closed, but
get back up there,
close it again.
You probably left the oven on.
Didn't cook a thing last night,
but for some reason, you turned it on,
left it on. It's exactly the same
as when you didn't close the door.
(Is it closed at this moment?)
Turn it off, or the whole house burns.
It's not even gas, but everything burns.
And close the damn door!
It's too simple. How can something this basic
be so serpentine?
A sprawl of papers in the air catch fire, then
cascade on everything like napalm butterflies.
Your balcony is your new waterfall.
Everyone knows how firemen stop flames:
they look at them.
I will tell you what happens to unobserved trees in the forest:
Close the door!
Turn off the oven!
Shut off the valve!
Shut off the
Seven days of deliriumMondaySeven days of delirium7 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Today I discovered that my heart was stillborn
and only beats out of a sense of obligation to my mother.
I found this very insulting.
I was ogled by cats all day. They seem to think
I have a personality. In truth, I am the most naked animal
in the world. I own ten shirts with the word 'spine'
printed on the back. I wear them like I wear my skin.
It is changing. The rain now falls into the sky, and the
ground is dancing. I went to buy pictures of eagles,
but they were all empty. The store clerk did not understand
my disappointment. 'Don't you like this grass?' he asked,
but I told him the cause of his death: a blue Nile. This seemed
to silence him.
At least I saved the money.
Will they bury me in the end? I hope that means I will fall
into the universe like a comet. When I was little,
the other children wanted to be firemen, athletes,
lawyers, action heroes, presidents and astronauts;
I always wanted to be a comet. The reason:
I am hopelessly in love wi
Garage saleI wonder if it will get easier,Garage sale3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
a thingless life.
Body of one,
room for none.
For sale, cheap:
A PlayStation 2, used.
An ambition, abused.
Four walls, beaten.
One lamb shank.
...no, that's eaten.
Ninety-seven DVDs, watched.
Three novels, botched.
One brain, worn.
One heart, torn.
& other things, call for details.
Everything must go.
Like that girl in her waist coat
who called herself my wife.
Like that man in his leather jacket
who told me how to live my life.
UnbuttonI declared love dead.Unbutton4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
There was a ceremony, and I did the obituary.
"Dear love. I told you so."
Then the burial of an empty gesture, broken
promises integrating with the earth.
I visited the grave, let my fingers run
along the unmarked stone. I would sit at the TV at night,
awash in a sea of detergent and other peoples' wives,
forgetting everything about this. One day I just woke up cold.
And it was fine.
I wrote my acceptance on the inside of my door.
Life is full as it is. Full of spoons and dirt and ways to slowly dig.
Full of reflections on what passes and what does not.
Curled up in itself, a wad of dirty bills. Life is
blue smoke drifting by. Life is consistent in its own confusion.
Rocks and boneheads, sticks and stoneheads.
Some people are dancers, wings for brains, others are dredged from the shallow sea.
We are mud people, grime, flesh, palpitation,
and sudden flashes of staggering beauty.
Life is what grinds the mountains and moves the oceans.
Life is the fantastic terror re
NaPoWriMo: Day 10 Have you ever been so cold, Sweetheart,NaPoWriMo: Day 103 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
your knees q u a k e d like that Jenga piece
that buckled just before your whole foundation
& no matter
how many times
I've restarted your heart,
one would think
I'd grow tired,
I'm still writing you in poetry
(in the most inappropriate of places.)
You forced yourself beneath my blades
& my fingertips,
Licking unstable knees,
you were death on my tongue:
angry apricot eyes, unforgivable sin
scaring my limbs &
haunting my dreams.
& I'd still try to save your fucking life.
WaywardI feel so sickeningly slowWayward4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
as if the air is liquefied and
every breath is swamping me
and when my feet spill onto ground
the Earth keeps turning away.
I come with nothing but hope
but find nothing but your body.
I run in search of a semblance of soul,
but all I find is silent scenery.
I stop at a blackening tombstone
uncertain where to turn.
I touch my bones and skin,
the absence of meat alarming.
Again I pound the pavement, the street
swiftly streaming by like bits
and misplaced pieces, everything else
I lost my face down by the waterfall,
staring too hard for my reflection.
I lost my heart somewhere over the Atlantic,
leaning out for a glimpse of reason,
but it was far too dark to find one
or retrieve the other.
I run, I run, I run,
but I remain
NaPoWriMo: Day 8I was toldNaPoWriMo: Day 83 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
to slice through the thickest
of scar tissue this evening.
Let all my inner demons
fall to the floor
& write them out
in my own black blood.
It’s not red anymore,
even though needles
& the bruises
laid out like war-lands
on my arms
I don’t think it ever was,
My mind is a mess
of free versed insecurities,
cat’s eye marbles,
& untamed forest fires-
I still don’t have the nerve
to slice open my skin
& bleed for her.
NaPoWriMo: Day 2sometimes,NaPoWriMo: Day 23 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
i have this
sudden urge to cut
most of the time,
i just wish I were anything
other than me.
a rocket ship, a bird-
the sweet flavored smoke
I promised my girlfriend
these briar patch lungs
would not in.hale.
i have fallen in love
with the strangest of things-
eyes that intimidate
the way my scars
play hide and seek
with her hands. -
the love letters
that start and end
pressed against limbs.
i make promises
i know i can not keep.
but if i were a liar
i would say i was tired
of writing to the stars.
SunderIt is still out there, our love. Rocking,Sunder3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
abandoned, on unseen waves.
I wish I had something figurative,
something beautiful and wistful and melodious to say about it,
but all I know is that the lines are down,
permanently, like dial phones.
No way to hear what was left unsaid.
I wish I could draw parallels, sprinkle
with metaphor, hammer it home
with symbolism, somehow returning
from the mindspace, fulfilled.
I wish I could twirl my beard
and feel any wiser.
The truth is, it was meant to be,
as much as anything.
And if there is a conclusion to be drawn,
it isn't one of words.
In her madness writtenIn the mountainsIn her madness written2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
the words came down like
hard and ruinous.
In her solitude
she was a goddess
of her design.
In this state
every word was power
darkening the black,
outrunning the light.
In her descent,
she lost the gift
In the sanity of the valley
revisits to what was written
revealed no subtext, no method
but the open deep.
On these pages
she found a stranger’s words
startled like a bird flock
never to be caught again.
August Lover,I want to wrap myself in your air,August Lover,3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
hold your secrets between my
ribcage-embrace & just
NaPoWriMo: Day 4I might have a scrappers knees,NaPoWriMo: Day 43 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
wildflowers growing on my knuckles,
& I might remind you of every nasty thing
you ever did,
but I don’t see you in my mirror.
I just have the right
to hate my own face.
I think this hitchhiker’s heart
is breaking &
I don’t have the medical skill-
or the time
to suture the pieces
back together again.
Splinter helixEMBRYOSplinter helix4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
a derelict building shifts its swollen form
wire cage elevators moving carefully as it swallows
nestled in a womb of fragile concrete fibres
the child of paint and pastel colours stirs
searching blindly for that energetic outside world
it stretches its delicate arms like an earthquake
Tell me where you come from, what you remember
of the black ground. Talk in riddles only your kind
understands, talk in flowers, talk in thorny branches.
You crack the foundations in starlike patterns, and
you stretch the heart of you for the concrete above,
longing to carry the sky as a bed for the Sun.
the twisting flesh of the whistling tree
blankets the screaming mud with salt
in a lush park tended by arthritic backs
an old man sits with a young girl
as devils arc their spines within smiles
they discuss the taste of snow
They know the end grows high, grows nigh,
outgrows the star dome like parasite patchwork.
The invaders never came, they were the ground stones,
N o v ai.N o v a3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
This distance between us
is devouring my lungs.
I'm left here gasping,
trying to suture back together
all the broken nights-
the cigarette burns in my bedsheets.
I'm tracing maps on my limbs,
and I'm painting black holes on my palms,
pressing them into letters
left on my nightstand
untouched and unread.
I keep telling myself
none of this is about you.
But I'm reaching for empty galaxies
as I try to remember what it felt like
to be one of a binary star.
Light-years away, and I'm here-
just another nova on your ceiling,
searching this vast universe for you.
ThawPart of me evaporatedThaw3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
in big sky country.
Scattered in all directions,
easily startled by the naked wild.
Blue mountains sprung from rolling hills,
too far away to save it
from becoming the rain.
Past the peaks, past the desert,
sailing the vortex of trees
in which my own heartland
could so easily drown,
the bedrock smashed our bow.
We became as deadwood
on the Beaver State rapids.
You built the strangest vessels
from my creaking words, and
I tried so hard to steer them
towards the sand.
But I am no captain.
What I took for conversation
was nothing but splinters
riding glacier-back, returning
to the valley of death and rebirth.
What I took for love was real,
but nothing real ever lives
past the melting point.
A Gods DebtSutured together by artists,A Gods Debt3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
hallowed out, & spit back up,
( you are afraid. )
Hooks longing for her ribcage embrace;
god-hands that can't seem to keep to themselves
grapple the gargoyle exterior of her deflowered frame.
( spread your legs. )
Red-inked and trembling,
prosetry masked as screams
knots into her anatomy.
No wander about it, just lust.You were a mid-morning train wreck,No wander about it, just lust.3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
the embodiment of poetry.
& my clavicles whispered too many nothings
about your summer storm hands,
folding like paper cranes
to make wishes upon themselves.
wishes are for the weak-
do something about this quaking heart
& freezing fingers.
I think I found God then,
FloodAnd when the tide rolled swiftly inFlood3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
we forgot what songs to sing.
I swam for you, I swam for you,
but only saved the horror
of knowing you wanted to drown.
Part of me returned to dry,
the rest is lost at sea.
The witness treeIt is cold, the heartThe witness tree3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
like I am, it sits
chill and sickly still,
and what if I'm really floating,
floating down the river.
All that was said
was kissed to the air, sweet
everywhere, the faceless there,
and what if I pale my way in the deep,
deep down on the riverbed.
The only witness
leans off the bank, all the time
in the world to think,
and what if the truth never blooms,
blooms and bulbs down the line.
What my epitaph should not sayShe is such a beautiful nun.What my epitaph should not say7 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
She gave away all that could have been for an ideal.
How delightfully unfathomable.
Her unborn children run
wild in the imagination.
They are footnotes to another life.
These tingling crossroad choices
are always at your fingertips. This is what
it means to be creative: unselecting.
Everyone looks down the barrel of a gun
at some end of their lives.
I hope you simply find an opening there.
We may not all be Rolls-Royces,
But we can all go out in style, baby,
leaving phantom castles in the collective unconscious.
And we may not all be James Augustine Aloysius Joyces.
But we can all be Ulysses' lost,
searching for the place where we belong.
I want to have a beautiful run.
I don't want my epitaph to be
'Waiting to be discovered.'
I miss you, and i can't say i'm sorryI miss you3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
because these slender, spider fingers
ache to trace the curved letters of your name tag,
emily. i notice you write everything in caps.
( have i ever told you
how much i enjoy saying your name, -EMILY. )
you are screaming to the world, quietly.
but we, we are mid-morning whispers
over stale, back room coffee,
silent eyes, and window pane love.
these hearts were runaways once;
hitchhikers on a trail to nowhere.
you shared pieces of yourself with me then,
emily, between beats and bathroom stalls.
you were a gargoyle under the heat
of july summer. evenings were our playground;
rose garden beasts lingering in feverish night.