hyperdontiasometimes it feels as ifhyperdontia2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
I have too many milk teeth,
too many parts of me that belong
to a time when I climbed trees to touch the sky
and I swam in sunflowers
and fireflies -
to a time I have long since
painted in sepia tones,
long since pushed
to the back of my mind
with hands so tired
of being filled with splinters
- too many seeds
and not enough light.
there are too many parts of me
that I have placed underneath pillows,
that I have kept behind closed lashes,
that I have slept upon, waiting
for the morning to arrive and them
to be g o n e ,
replaced with coins that I could place
underneath the tongues of the dreams
that I could not ferry to my
but in the morning, they return -
one by one into my mouth,
daring me to speak them,
daring me to sing,
daring me to find someone who will listen.
it feels as if
I have too many stories,
too many secrets,
too many sins and not enough space
for the words to fly out of my mouth
and into the world -
waking upand imagine my surprisewaking up2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
when my insides bloomed
into so many dandelions,
and in a single breath
dead wordsthe poets and novelists are dead.dead words2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
dead poem analysis
dead novel deconstruction
on a dead tree sheaf
stained with dead food
and possibly being contemplated
by a dead mind.
who is to remember the words
of the now-unfunctioning,
only for those who have breath?
“you love literature
because of what it is,
not what it does.”
oh for the love of intrinsic value.
the poets and novelists are dead.
but we are alive to connect
to their worthiness of writing.
Lost in the Marketplace of an Alien WorldThey're all ears and nose,Lost in the Marketplace of an Alien World2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
pouring the colours of their feet
I can't count their stars
or syllables until
suddenly my mother's hand
takes me back
into my own solar system
and I'm falling in love with oxygen.
The Daily Sentence ProjectShe shifts her thighs to the same anglesThe Daily Sentence Project3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
where tectonic plates exchange glances.
The infant in her arms coos in haiku,
the phone crouching on her shoulder
barking in blank verse and bank terms;
where has the affection been displaced?
Perhaps the both of them are three full-
time jobs past romance and two cases
of chickenpox past the seven-year-itch
to be able to tell that dishwater softens
and oatmeal baths becalm their hands.
The kitchen tile is a haphazardous haven
for cloven shoes. She prefers slip-ons.
PositiveLeft to me, your worst historian,Positive3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
to pick up, in a daze, some depth of diction
I never found while you had lived
and I can only now pretend that words are capsules
of sanguinity, that they’ll unmask the symbologies
of sound that bore your binaries to their realms
like sacred dreams of Hypnos.
Regret’s a simple word.
I always thought of "A Separate Peace", and in those scenes
you were this Mozart in the rough, a perfect chord, one
which I would meekly channel through cracks of light
shown through the fist of my own interference,
Why this wisdom, now?
The cosmic clown who wrote this song
does not annotate our endings with an epilogue.
I do not see the irony in celebrating
your new found space.
There is no iconicity,
no special shape
that serves the world
as you did serve,
to bend and writhe the streets
into a wellspring, a circuitr
I took offMy day off.I took off2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
I stand in sunlight
I can watch it being day.
The mud is soft and cool at home.
I'd bury well without a casket,
I’ll be a naked pill for earth.
I build a garden box from wood,
smash my thumb.
too late for lettuce.
I had a premonition
I would live like this.
No one will remember me.
I’ll forget by Tuesday.
stop me if you've heard this one beforei.stop me if you've heard this one before3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
there is a man on the corner of my street
who gave me a bottle of bleach
and told me if i drank it, i'd finally feel clean.
but i gave it back to him, and went home to take a shower.
because i am almost happy,
and i do not want to mess that up by
chugging bleach or fingering knives or thinking too much
about that man who turned my insides cold
from inside of his car.
because this has to be happy.
this has to be what happy feels like.
it feels like god gave me a vodka bottle
filled with nature and people and oceans and deserts and seas,
cause see, it feels like i'm drunk on life.
i have this nervous habit of scratching holes in my skin
and my mother says it's because
i'm trying to find something beautiful inside me.
she said i need a psychiatrist.
my friend asked me if i needed itching crème.
i keep laughing about stuff that's probably not funny.
i don't want it to rain anymore.
used to, i liked the rain,
because if i squinted, all the lines would be blurred.
beauty is a state of mindforgiveness is thebeauty is a state of mind1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
scent the violet leaves
on the foot that stomped it;
I am beautiful in remembrance:
I am beautiful
in a body two sizes too
large, in eyes dilated
with questions (eyes
you cannot name; gray
like the ocean, blue
like the heart, green like
the fever dream I cannot
wake from) I am the
hair of a lion, a wild
thing, ignition upon
tempted glance. I am the skin
you cannot name, always fleeting;
you always see
but never truly take in.
and I know a boy
carved of ivory silence,
you need to have a plan...so here's toyou need to have a plan...2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
to some forgotten shore.
2. fall desperately in love with
i. the ocean
ii. the sky
iii. the honey sunrise and
iv. the steelgray winter dawn.
soul-deep into the water and
4a. search out the requisite words
i. from behind white and blue curtains
ii. and underneath clam shells
iii. and in the wakes of fishing boats, and
4b. pluck them from the ceaseless
scrawls of sunlight
against the slopes of waves.
5. make time for
ii. and other
Fill in the blank.Sometimes people leaveFill in the blank.3 years ago in Haiku & Eastern More Like This
these why-sized holes in our lives
after they depart.
RestlessI’ve been living in the same breathy dreamRestless2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
for too many days now; I’m bed-ridden and
stale and I reek of those moments that come
full throttle like a car crash on a winter night
this is evolution where weak hearts
are afraid of the shadows and where
an apologetic wind births no remorse;
he will move on—anchored ship
set sail, I am the sunken wreckage
that never learned how to swim.
he will move on, Darwin says
I never had a chance
I wish I were the textbook sadness,
symptom and solution and endurance
but I’ve spent too long sleeping on the
thoughts of shooting stars and gravity
and reasons, scientific calculations with
thrice-checked proofs for the skeptics
that don’t believe in the sleight of hand magic
reality wants to imply
I am not the insomniac writer with
better things to do than sleep; I am
the heavy bones afraid of what
lies in the darkness beneath
the skeletons of childhood monsters
feelingfunnycatfish in a fish farmfeelingfunny3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
staring at the sky
to dream about the sea
pacificher longbow mouth is un-pacific2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
strung; loose bottom
lip with a cocked
births into him like
Keepers of My Hearti.Keepers of My Heart3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
you are in love with being in love
like you're caught on the train tracks,
tied down by want, waiting for that
insistent collision to
steal you away into the land
of concussions and self-medication
and hearts that barely heal
and stories confessing the notches
in your bedpost, the lines in
your smile. the sour note in your
liberally dissonant melody.
you did not want tangibility
cotton trees cascading and butterfly
innards, serenading clouds and
(until the sky came crashing down
and you reoriented the earth)
you did not want me
I am solid and as notable as
the ghosts sleeping in your ears,
their snores telling time as
the days blur together
I am not of starry kisses and
back porch promises-
I am the wrong kind of accident
on the train tracks.
I am broken,
(but not in the right way)
I am real
these are the things we carry with us:
a knife in the side and a
cramp in the lungs; a longing
in the mouth for words or tastes
or people or something m
Wildflowers, Imperfect BirdsI breathed your name like wildflowers under vast broken skies, in wide-open spaces. The wind blowing through them spoke of dew and dirt and petrichor, and there was sunlight on the ground like a mosaic patterned by god's own hands.Wildflowers, Imperfect Birds3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
I said it like a monarch claiming new land: a declaration, a butterfly breath over old earth; like it was coffee on a warm morning with the sun in my eyes, interlacing with my lashes; like it was a dream; like it was a prayer like it was a miracle wrought of air and bone and body: you, in, out, in, out, in and in and in.
I cried it out like an earthquake between lip and lip, continents that don't quite fit: your name, a fault line that doesn't know how to apologize.
And I whispered it like it had grown nothing where there should've been feathers, no wings to fly it on, like my lips were the nest it would always call home.
So I breathed it,
And I whispered it,
And I said it,
And I sang it,
Like a castle; like a mirror; like it was the big bang and ever
simple pleasureswind caressing my face,simple pleasures2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
tangling my hair,
cooling me down
on this hot summer day
running down my chin,
hoping that they grow anew
my daughter's smile
when she splashes me in the pool,
her screeching laugh
when I chase her
it's the simple things
that make me sigh with contentment,
it's the little things
that bring tremendous joy
Summers Lost god died today. or maybe it was tomorrow. i can't remember.Summers Lost3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
to sewer lines:
like a wish
on a dead star.
the feeling of gritted teeth
and fingers crossed
until they break.
like a scalpel
and a brick wall
against my throat.
and i was
when i said,
swallowing cinder blocks;
stuffing steel under skin.
on my cheek,
like book pages:
"where have you been?"
PersephoneI fed herPersephone3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
and she cried
at every frozen sunrise
for 180 days.
With cracks in my heart
caught in my hair
I counted 180 more.
turning over bucketsperhaps it isn't beautiful,turning over buckets4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
lying halfway underwater;
pouring your palladium hopes
down your hands
looking full of shale and broken glass
half lighting whiskey-paper on fire
with that sun tossing in your chest
and all of you rattling
in this thin-skinned pineapple percussion,
the things you're so very sure of, sweltering under
callouses, under sea-
a kaleidoscopic mass of stinging cider-riviera
twisting into your human frame;
but when i say something of protests
you break in,
with too many pinecones waking in your chest, saying,
how lucky how
lucky we are
to be alive to be
Revenantthey came like phantoms;Revenant3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
oceanic whispers left me washed out.
those gossamer ghosts that lined
the doorways-- eyes in a constant
state of surprise as they reached for me:
needle fingers pricked, fueling
my addictions. they ached
for my veins, entangled like
the strings of my paper heart
and they stained my skin,
amethyst bruises in the shape
their breaths were the heavy hums
of a forgotten lullaby "one day you
will leave, and you will fade into a
virulent void, like us. you will warm
our icy bones, and we will love you,
like no one else can.
go back to sleep, little girl, we will
come again" with their cerulean
secrets painted on my arms,
they became the empty walls.
I wake up alone, and silence
falls. I only hear the echo of
my hungering heart.
fast-forward through the goodbyesthis is the beginning of the endfast-forward through the goodbyes3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
“i know you,” he says.
and he looks defeated, he looks sad, he looks like
he's a boy who may one day realize how much
he cares for you, so you cut him off and say,
“minus all the secrets i don’t tell anyone.”
“well, yeah, minus those.”
“then you don’t know me at all.”
and then you tell him,
i love you. but you don’t use those words
because those are taboo. are jinxed.
are knock on wood three times fast.
instead you press him in a hug and say,
i’m sorry, knowing he won’t understand
that this is the first time you ever cared for something
enough to try and fix it after you hurt it.
you hope he doesn’t ever realize what you’re saying
and his response will always be ‘what for?’ because
if he figures out he loves you nothing changes.
he’s just going to be in love with a corpse, a memory,
a pair of trigger happy hands,