lovesong for sailorboyRead aloud and explained (somewhat) here.
i have always loved words as you love the sea
but i have grown to hate
because i have always had words
but never for you.
words for everything
but i have words for this, so
i'll take them
one by one.
the ocean was your first love and
i could always see it in your eyes.
most would call them blue--just
like a swell over a sandbar
blue like the spring sky over a poppy field.
but i don't think anyone
got as close as i did and they're not blue
not shorebound and
they're gray like the steelbellied sea itself
like the horizon at dawn as it
hems you into an impossibly vast canvas
like a demarcation line
or a promise.
one you always chased.
maybe i had a streak of ocea
summergirlNow read aloud over here. Do give it a listen, won't you?summergirl3 years 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.
the cure for everything is saltwaterand my voice is choked with pebblesthe cure for everything is saltwater3 years ago in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
and my veins are thick with ink
so i'll bleed out all my lovesongs
wash them down the kitchen sink
and i'll tell you that i'm leaving
and i'll flee this soulless town
for the silent sea is calling
and i'm not afraid to drown
and i'll search out quiet islands
let the blank horizons be
drench my soul in every ocean
sink my heart in every sea.
you need to have a plan...so here's toyou need to have a plan...3 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
with thanks to salingerAudio version.with thanks to salinger3 years 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
sirensAudio version here.sirens3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
sometimes the mermaids will watch the sailorboys, and green ocean eyes will take in the powerful shoulders and the instinctive sense of balance, and sometimes one will fall in love. and sometimes this love will fill up her chest so much it hurts, and sometimes it will make her reckless--make her swim silently up to the sides of the boats and reach up (carefully, with just the barest sound of water droplets tumbling back into the depths) and rest her arms on the wood that's long since been worn smooth from salt and sun. and sometimes the sailorboy will turn, but he'll see nothing--but when he hauls in his net it will be brimming, straining at the seams, and he will look out over the ocean for a moment, all the way to the blank horizon, and sometimes he will wonder.
and it's easy to love the girls that swim up from the bottom of the ocean with nets knotted up in their
4 Traits of a Damn Good Boyi. drive4 Traits of a Damn Good Boy2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
buddy, you were a throwback. you had a lot of wolf in you,
a feral soul.
i hope heaven has eased the stiffness in your joints
and brushed the gray from your fur
and left you sleek and gorgeous,
a solid pack of muscle with the kind of determination
that can never be taught.
i hope there are lizards for you to chase,
doves for you to launch yourself after
and catch out of the air with a finesse that would make professionals weep.
buddy, i hope someone's up there throwing a stick for you every now and then.
i hope you give 'em hell when they want it back.
buddy, it seemed like the world was a very scary place for you.
i'm not sure why,
and maybe i laughed at you a little--
at the neurotic puppy inhabiting the commanding form
of a hunter--
and sometimes i got angry at you
and your insistence that the world was out to get you
and i'm sorry for that.
it took me years to realize that something must have happened
to plant a deep and unshakeable fear
with thanks to frost Now with a reading.with thanks to frost3 years 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
the beauty's in the leavingRead aloud here.the beauty's in the leaving3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
sweetheart, let's head out. let's
drink up the desert asphalt and that last bottle
of johnny walker blue--
one last toast to the copper sunsets,
to the good earth. a pair of
tailgate stargazers, you and i:
roaming curves across the glove compartment map, until
every foldline is worn flannel-soft
and it'd rather stay open
let's forget route sixty-six. let's forget
and pick up terra cotta dust--
breathe in the mojave. let's pretend
that the world's already ended
and it's just us.
let's leave the door unlocked
(c)loves and (c)loversi am no artist's muse,(c)loves and (c)lovers3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
i am no ship's harbor
i am no hero's weaker heel,
i am no good earth's flower
i have never been your lover
nor have i ever kissed you,
- not even once
though i dream of you (c)love-scented,
with lips shaped like a lucky (c)lover's-
kissing you and to be kissed by you
i can never profess,
not even confess
even to myself
i stay standing, (b)raving the cold nights,
pretty much batty and bootless
the absence of you weighs metric tons on my
shivering nape, and
you dam(n) me with
you are my river's boulder,
and undefined border
we are not a fairytalewe are not a fairytale.we are not a fairytale3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
I am not the strong lead with a heart of fire,
bones of steel, and eyes of vapid curiosity;
motivation seeping through
my every last intended action because
I was written this way
(the heroine falls only to rise again:
proverbial phoenix, burning out
because it is the cycle of my
life) and you, you are not
the beautiful travesty, perfectly composed
to strike me where I’m weak and
[almost]human, delicately woven
like the tapestry of my dismantling—
a subtle irony where somewhere, a writer
chuckles softly, understanding
we are blinder than church mice, born
in a makeshift world of darkness where
I’m not sure whether or not the sun will
rise again tomorrow, because it won’t exist
until someone breathes life into it,
but no. we were never so lucky
to be carefully orchestrated,
a composition rendered for
another’s satisfaction. I am not the
climax, nor the resolution, but a lamb
with Stockholm Syndrome and
a tendency towards people
1,001 NightsIn a land of1,001 Nights2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
dreams and dust:
the curve of
a half-hazed sun,
hallelujah .:commish:.Storm--hallelujah .:commish:.2 years 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.
fluencythe writer, in bed,fluency3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
ponders the hushing fricatives
of denim on cotton,
the liquid linguistics
of hips and ribs and delicate
vertebra; and catalogues--files away
every shaking aspirant and every
quiet, arched-throat glottal stop,
and the way it all just
off the tongue.
AsphodelA beckoning:Asphodel2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
watercolour sky shrinking,
too late, teeth fall; pearls
from a broken string.
Blink and the moon ignites—
but the sheets are still
suffocation keepthis city suffocates so we don'tsuffocation keep3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
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
wallflower clippingsthere's scar tissue in her throat,wallflower clippings3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
swollen around the words she never said;
dark rings around her eyes
like planets unremembered, and
a staleness to her touch,
the crystalline Dead Sea.
she's living like a story
that's already been told
"if no one loved you
would you mean anything at all?"
in that moment,
we forget to exist.
inktrust me enoughink2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
to let me carve my love into the
quiet slope of your back.
let me feel each bone,
feel your spinal cord humming
beneath my fingertips.
let me feel
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
caring for p(o)etsscribbling down vicious verses oncaring for p(o)ets3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
tissue napkins while seated at
the corner of a sidewalk cafe is
about as romantic, raw and
honest a p(o)et
-outside of the four corners of your bedpost-
if you've got that person dreading over
drafts and dreams on end
-of you, for you-
consider yourself a new owner
it is now time to
tame this p(o)et's perverse mane
you've got your hands on
a fragile purebred
which can be very tricky for
lucidityyou were all dead ends and flypaper,lucidity2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
so when she had her tenth
that week, and woke up
sweat-drenched and howling
like a dying creature, you cursed down thoughts
of thirty-day notices,
and you packed up
and you left the front door wide open
and you started driving.
a state and a half
later, the sun rose,
and she was loose and soft in the backseat
and you could rest easy, making
tiny movements of the steering wheel
to compensate for that little
behind your ribs,
anchoring you north.
the first time you stopped for gas,
you had this impractical fantasy of
ditching the little blue Ford
but you looked at her
and you smiled,
and there would be time enough for that
are such feeble constructs.
one night she leaned close into your side,
her hand tracing patterns across the ridges
of your shoulder blades,
and she whispered,
"let’s go home,"
but she held the wheel still when you tried to
when the oc
wreaking havocone of these evenings, iwreaking havoc2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
will track the moon and stars
carving scars across
the roaring sky.
i will watch the moonset fade from
oxblood to amber
and find the softest,
most dangerous phrases--
i will stay up all night,
sucking on sugar cubes
and waiting for the absinthe.
O FevraleWitching hour, welcomed with a sigh,O Fevrale3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
bare-breasted and ink-stained in the night.
Half in love in this half-life half-light;
pisat O Fevrale navsnryd, dreaming
of the gods. Wanderer, today I died and
died again, and whispered prayers
to clasped hands… until the nestled
droplets fell away like sunrays at dusk;
and when moonrise came, I sang again.
To My Biology TextbookOn page 159 of my biology textbook, it reads,To My Biology Textbook2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
“...cancer is the uncontrolled growth of cells”
as though that could explain everything,
and I thought it did for a time.
But my textbook never warned me
that his skin would pale
to a point where I could see
the blue freight trains
carrying eighteen pills
throughout his frail body.
My textbook never warned me
that his watery irises would freeze over,
that he would hurl insults like knives,
and that he would clench his jaw
as tightly as his fist clenched his wine glass
because the only person to blame is himself,
and he can’t swallow that as easily
as he can the olives in his martinis.
And my textbook never warned me
that it would be this difficult to breathe
because of my acute awareness
that his breaths are limited,
and that there would be nothing I could do
but soldier on searching for that silver lining
clinging to these foreboding thunderheads.
symptoms of red a materialistsymptoms of red2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
inside of you
unknitting your sweater
& in your dream
you are a wolf eating
a flower in an orange field. the world
is ending. an unnamed girl stains you
as if she were tea
giving up to a
she writes a story: the unrequited
blurry visions of two visionaries