suffocation keepthis city suffocates so we don't
no, at best
we sing in sign language:
the hushed glances, the solidity
of shoulder blades
let's leave the choking crowds
and chase out somewhere
where the wind blows
wide and rich--
where the knotted songs in your
to take these beartrap ribs
and let us
summergirlNow read aloud over here. Do give it a listen, won't you?summergirl1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
you are crowthroated and tumbling
through the aspen grove
hair on fire with sunrise, lungs
full of sky.
eyelashes like wildflowers
and every morning brings
a new spray of freckles
and a sharper curve to your collarbones.
the cornfields hold no shadows
for your lighthouse eyes
and there are no endings in that
ii. you have grown
autumn finds you with broken ankles
leaning on an oak branch
and watching the skies.
crow to sparrow--you are quiet.
summergirl, there is peace in silence,
fallen antlers in your hands.
you will come to mourn your deer.
keep them close.
iii. by winter you have paled,
and like the streams
your eyes have frosted over.
you feel the chill--
there is no need for sight.
all that hasn't happenedPretty please listen to the audio.all that hasn't happened1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
i want to remember
the rumbling piano baritones
high notes like hailstones--your hands
running soundless scales.
i want the summer seas
the vineyard overlook, the olive
trees and sunwarmed coasts.
we filled the empty pages
with whole notes and halftones,
oceans and lovesongs.
we lived, we live
inkstained and drowning
through nights thick with words
and days shot with sound.
with thanks to frost Now with a reading.with thanks to frost7 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
two roads diverged in a soulless dawn
and you pull over,
idling on the shoulder of route 50.
it's a polaroid morning and
the world is as grainy
as your eyes,
and one million miles
is not far enough.
it plays back, filmstrip,
blurred along the length of
and here you are:
facing a choice between
this loosejointed, hollowbodied
this is what
rapid eye movementi am jealousrapid eye movement7 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
of my birdwinged half-sister.
later, birdwinged reapers--black,
looming quiet in every doorway. they
followed me from my hemmed-in waking terror
to the free reign of my subconscious.
far better suited to their purposes.
thunderstorms like supernovae out at sea, and
empty little boats tossed on emptier shores.
it rains, and the sea advances,
cresting the saguaros. someone is lost.
i don't know who. i don't know why i
care so much.
cliffs and skyscrapers. tightropes. sometimes
i am afraid of heights, and sometimes
afraid for those who are not.
the skinny girl
with the long dark hair is
always worth dying for.
sex. i am in turn
bemused, and indifferent, and bored, and
frustrated, more often than anything.
i like that i still remember how it felt to hug my dog,
right down to the cool wirecoat
and the warm fluff beneath,
and his immense
sometimes i wake up with misty
recollections and the overwhelming thought:
i wish it could be like this.
jungles with ancient
Almost-Buoyant Credence Dear ocean childAlmost-Buoyant Credence10 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
born from the escape of drowning suns,
I have longed
for your halcyon-woven hair
and lucid, lyrical gaze
for the longest while
Let me trace resting eights, lemniscates
along each inch of your holy-grail spine
swimming toward the sea snakes
embedded in your sacrum
Harbinger of kismet,
I want you to condense
all my joys and my sorrows,
confiscate all my grays,
lacunae and lagoons
as if chrysalises
caught in amber, illuminated
though lost in the span of days,
lightsdon't be fooled--lights1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
the sky is not static.
there is an infinity between any
infinite hex codes
between the bounds of the spectrum--
this is the great secret of the universe, this
cosmic light show
we can't detect--
the changes too small for our
perhaps there is someone out there--someone else
even if he cannot see.
is not my blue--perhaps it all comes down
to the chemicals
the spin of individual molecules that all add up to become
our own blue.
maybe it's all on us.
the cosmos isn't trying because, really--
if i were the cosmos
i would have better things to do.
maybe there is something
in our ability to overanalyze
and oversimplify--our ability
to realize we know nothing
and try again, anyway.
with thanks to salingerAudio version.with thanks to salinger10 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
it's on those cold mornings
when you are nothing but indrawn breath
swirling and knitted up inside too-big
skin and weightless bones--
when the horizon arches up against
the half-thawed tendrils of sunrise
with golden teeth,
and smiling, begs--
it's on those cold mornings
when leaving is easiest.
the car will be cold, and you will
shiver, and the engine,
much too loud,
will smack of blasphemy
but you will find peace in the steady roll
of tarmac and the yellowing light
spilling across it,
with dust motes kicked up and carried
like fish in the undertow.
when you come to that first
crossroads, it will shock you:
the way the decision hangs there
trembling and desperate--
but there are no right answers and you will not
hesitate. and each successive choice
will be made of its own accord,
and you will roll the windows down,
and draw down the scent of ear
syracuseListen to the audio version for the full effect, pretty please.syracuse1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
cloudshot sky like an oil painting and i am watching the
darling, i will swim for you
and swallow every whitecap.
i will pluck myself a coat of pelican wings,
sew them up with salt and spray--
become icarus for you.
you are calling me across the waves, love--
but you pull against the ache
in my bones, the hollow--
the clawing out for unseen sunsets and unturned tides.
i hear you, love
give me time.
i will always listen.
love and sundry beasts .:commish:.Churchbells ring twice and everywhere--love and sundry beasts .:commish:.4 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
in the echoes there are whispers,
sliding quiet along the edges of
logical fallacies. This
is how the world will end:
lovers and lies,
and a sudden
they can't be takentheir bleach skin caught my eyethey can't be taken2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
albino white against the wild
hair like bright sky electric in the briars
haloed sister gods shot down like fawn
waking upand imagine my surprisewaking up6 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
when my insides bloomed
into so many dandelions,
and in a single breath
insomnia to keep you closefalling asleep with the windowsinsomnia to keep you close6 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
open, with morning curling
around you like a drop of blue
ink in a glass of water,
turquoise and unwritten;
remembering when early dawn
was a secret you kept
in a soft, aortic pocket—
your dead lighter spinning
to the floor of Lake Ontario,
a halo of its bygone, synergetic flame.
you need to have a plan...so here's toyou need to have a plan...8 months 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
I am the wayward childI wish I had something more to offerI am the wayward child10 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
when your joints ached and your bones creaked
and you wept dust; (the cobwebs around
your tongue were a comfort once)
but I am three times screwed
over backwards and turned right around,
breathing in gravel and praying on
the only consistencies I know like
on Sun-day we are in the house of God
and it won’t rain and dad won’t speak
and mom will sit with pursed lips counting
all the times we didn’t kiss her goodbye
and everyone will call it normal,
everyone will look at the way I write words
on cracked pavement and get glassy-eyed
when they speak softly and forget the sound
of my own voice when I’m afraid; all those times I
tripped over my own feet and walked away
with wounded knees, and they will call me normal.
I’m at it again, building barricades
from ashes and calling them friends
(this here is fear, he visits me nightly;
and that stale stain in the corner
is actually anxiety, recuperating
from the moment it caught a
north pacificAudio version thisaway.north pacific1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
icewater and tumblestone beaches, and i wonder, clifftop,
if the fog tastes like forest.
the ocean carves its histories
in the driftwood--creation stories and
lullabyes worn smooth,
bleached to a polish.
it might be sand shifting but maybe--
maybe i can feel the whalesong,
low and deep
thrumming in the hollow spaces of my bones.
i envy the seabirds
who have more room to feel.
arcticwhalesong.arctic1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
the abyss begins at the surface
dropping straight black
and only the whales sound the depths,
crooning their gospels,
their basso profundo
the whales face the dense,
enveloping chill--the darkness--
they know the
is the true giver.
only the light takes
Stay Dreamingyou are pale in the half-light;Stay Dreaming2 years ago in Stories & Vignettes More Like This
all the fire you carry with you in the waking world is doused in the sweetness of your hair across the pillow & your frame insinuating itself in the sheets, in pockets of weight & pools of shadow that say "i am a body", "i am a girl"
(vulnerable yet terrifying)
& in life you are larger than you seem, thunder & lightning inside colored glass. you are cruel-mouthed but soft-eyed, & brittle queen (you would rather break than bend for me), you are all the lovelier for your frail-boned pride.
it is strange how much i see of you when you are not looking back, how i feel as though it is only in moments like these (in not-quite-daylight, in dreaming) that we are truly at peace. for is it not that our natures may be likened to those of sea & sky? were we not born to crash & storm & shriek & boil against one another? (what is the nature of the place where we meet? for i do not believe in the horizon; blue on blue, it can only be an illusion
PluckingPluckingPlucking1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
The table between us is a moon.
But the air is heavy. It lies
on us, muffled heat stilling
our breaths. You drop your fork,
but I still won't look at you. Even angels
would crawl if they were here.
"Why can't we be friends?"
I am thinking of a Flemish tapestry
I once saw in a white stone house,
walls dense and prickly with roses:
a line of stiff scarlet soldiers,
a rearing horse. The soldiers' thick fingers
grope at the blank cream cloth,
seeking purchase, gravity.
"What are you feeling?"
"I want to be a Flemish soldier,"
I tell you. Only my fingers
would constantly pluck at the expanse,
searching for the thread
that will unravel everything.
feast, feistwe, the scavengers--feast, feist6 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
the foxthroats on the fringes.
we do not
hallelujah .:commish:.Storm--hallelujah .:commish:.3 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
and the desert inhales,
inebriated on an atmosphere thick
with electricity and promise.
Each tiny daylight is
a new rapture.
deliverance and the furiesswallowing smoke as if every graceshufflingdeliverance and the furies6 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
gulp is of rosewater. i belong to you, lifting
my chin into a mountain range of pride; my
eyes as godhooded as stainedglass windows; my
shoulder blades clenching a band of steel
between them, stinging white as a staticshock
hiss (the jolt, of lightning of newness of
the gullible reception of skin). wandering the
hot splendid world, how could i not contribute
my timid turbulent spirit? how could i not tear
off a strip hunk morsel of overflowing audacious
breathmongering movement and attach it to your
medicinal mouth? and how could i not tug you into
the barrel of my arms, hold you slick and sloshing
as wine? i do not run out, am no measurable length of
rope; ownership of myself means accepting infinity
and offering it up like it is your right to have
what you take like denial is what happens when i
tell myself how small and unneeded i am (a pack
of lies, a throne more miniscule than the mole on
your chest). when the outside interrupts the expa
rock bottom, ocean floorhalf-past a different kind of brokenrock bottom, ocean floor8 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
on sadness, she wrote:
blind fool in the umbra
bury yourself in me
on the other side of lonely
and by god, i love you
(maybe i will be a landfill)
everyone i meet looks for a place to stay;
out of the woods, on wet roads
under wind, under rain
-i'm so far away
no wonder it took him 1455 pages
waiting for her to come this way
tramps like us-
in lieu of emptiness
in absence of a poem
(pour a little salt, we were never here)
your heart was a broken sailor
fishing for hearts with lace and not netting;
into the deep end of our story
i saw god leaving the shore
Here in springIf fatigue could grind downHere in spring9 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
cosmic energy in the center
of the universe
and in your center
like you are
grinding nutmeg and cinnamon
onto your cappuccino,
the little cup of storm
with your bent spoon
and eating raw walnuts
with the poet
out of the person
in sportive vapors,
what has mesmerized you
to me: being wrapped up
by the silhouette of your
coming and going,
nurturing the pearl
you have broken off of
a universal necklace,
your button picked off
of the universal sweater
draped around my shoulders
when we tour the little towns
that stand over the Hudson
like haloed hallucinations.
I would have slept forever
where the river carries
glaciers into spring
if not for the whole universe
moving into green
when you called it.
Let the Sparrows InI.Let the Sparrows In2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Blackbirds rest on the power lines,
their silhouettes form the notation
to a dawn song set on the sheet music
of telephone poles contrasted by the sun.
Curled leaves are land mines littered
on the lawn where imprints of twigs
and a nurturing robin's tracks collect.
Branchlets and leaflets stem from
porch step railings and mailboxes;
the numbers read odd on the east,
even on the west side of the asphalt:
The engraved letters on
the siding reads, "Davis."
This house is home to family
so let the sparrows in.
with its branching hallways
furniture rooted to the floor
family, friends, the occasional
out from home.
Let the sparrows in; let
Let the door's
loosen—let the door stand ajar
be let open
the night owls and
let the doves
in pairs in the iridescent
Let the sparrows in.
Framed on either side