i'm not an artistwe do not belong in boxes
and bags and books or
and we do not sit contently
in wordsworth and shakespeare
and blake, burns, and brownings
or in the cold stiff bones
of raleigh's of long ago;
detect, and re-select
a virus--a disease,
a germ in every verse and line;
the first signs of
foolish waitings under
bridges and scolding parents
and nothing to signify at all
we are the blood of nations
and the heart of men
and the love of every
rhetorist and sentimist
we dance through the ballrooms of
the age and chat with
we shake hands with heros
and the homeless, dirty
type that gum over 'hello's
we are and aren't and will be
silly verse and
naive philosophers and sweet oxymorons
waving hello from the shore;
forever onward and never ending
like the stars in an
GrowthI remember the day I caught him 'gardening'. His cheeks stained cherry with the brisk wind that trotted beside him up and down the smothered garden path. He dropped a seed as his feet brushed past each other. Up and down he walked, a solemn lieutenant. I asked him what he was doing and those wide sky eyes reflected the ice as he told me he was trying to grow flowers for his mother. I looked at the seeds spilt on the snow and told him that they could never grow in these circumstances. I will never forget the clench in my heart when he responded, with a child's tongue; "I know".Growth2 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
A lion among sheep.There are ghosts in my bloodstreamA lion among sheep.2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
kissing concrete cells &
the bedroom eyes of nerve endings.
( foreign words
engraved into my marrow, birds in my chest
& wars not yet fought between my hips. )
I've taken myself apart every night
since I learned how to swallow a pen
limb by steady limb.
Passed around by grabby hands,
a sold, & borrowed daughter;
I am a lion among sheep,
drunk on life & ink.
Open Heart SurgeryI've got ink throbbing through fissured veins,Open Heart Surgery2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
poisoning every atom of my soul.
"Bite your tongue," they say.
How I'd love to chew the damn thing off
and suck down every filthy syllable
just like the rotten bone marrow it is.
They'd all watch as my body spontaneously combusts
and becomes nothing but convoluted karma.
And so I wrote,
Teach me the ways of ripping out a human heart,
and stitching it onto ink-stained parchment."
The answer that came was rasped from a cauterized throat:
"Read your future in the collapsed palm of the stars;
find the abandoned pulse of your lionhearted muse;
steal their conformed scalpel and make it your own."
because i have toimpaledbecause i have to2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
& wreaking havoc on these
more than endorphins &
planes out of control
pretending that if
instilled in bedsheets
the long way hometoday i threw half mythe long way home2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
and waited for 25'000
people like you
jump off roofs and
stick their heads
(even when you put them
life's already hard enough
without trying to
what all your curtains
i am guilty
of forgetting about
the kettle boils
like my head on a pillow
you will never
see them again
or the fears that wonder
Never A Clear Mindmy spiders do not pay rentNever A Clear Mind2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
& the three in the garden keep the weeds
[in the shower
staring him down i think of you
& maybe if I steal the spiders from your head
you will stop destroying it
I know you don't know any better
than to end up on my bathroom floor
but you are a moth
& I can't find the lightswitch
From Mia, With Lovelast night i caught her with a finger so far down the back of her throat,From Mia, With Love2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
she pulled up her thoughts
into all the water
a refraction of light &
suspended until suddenly all the water in her head sloshes
(a faint inner ripple
as the pain leaks out her ears, her nose)
she was gasping to throw herself onto the next comma
she sinks or swims [the cliche, a baracuda, drags her down]
but if this was a love song
she'd hate it
because she's already written 46 on her hand
to remind herself she's only human & a weak gag reflex runs in her family
so walk straight in, my love
& sink to the bottom
six feet under these bulimic stars
Ways to conquer heartbreakDance with fistfuls of roses, shred their petals one by one and wear their thorns like armor.Ways to conquer heartbreak2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Write your secrets between the folds of paper cranes and tuck them safely between the empty spaces of your castle ribs.
Open your broken heart to hummingbirds, allow them the warmth and shelter of your arms.
Rebel. Tape poetry to your limbs, Cummings and Sandburg and Sexton.
Take a walk outside of your skin for a while, run with wolves.
Extinguish that forest fire that’s been curling too long in your lungs.
Be that lionhearted girl those snobby poets always write about.
Allow that cavern of stars in your throat to speak your truths in uppercase letters, in free verse yet to be proofread.
Write about wars and victory.
Be the hero.
It's all about her,-I had never wished to know the moon,It's all about her,2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
or the burning gaze of her lover.
I am merely a forest of silences,
old dogwoods & untamed hair.
-But, I made a promise
to a bone collector once.
He could have my spine,
my kneecaps, &
one flowered rib,
wrapped & bowed-up
like a present
-if he could fall in love
with things that slip through his fingers:
-“It would be a sin to love you,
my dear sweet wolf;
you will always cry for the moon.”
Poets have the loneliest hearts.I drink morphinePoets have the loneliest hearts.2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
like peach tea;
down 6 pills by morning
just to keep my mind
& I know I can go days
without speaking a word
I want a moon shy girl
with wolves at her back,
bite mark ankles &
a bottle of writer’s tears
tucked under one arm.
I want to be end of the war
kisses bruised into her hipbones;
the epilogue written over her
With these wisteria limbs
February cold, &
these weak lungs
exhaling coralline whispers,
I’ve got a tongue for words
but still have no idea how to love
a universe girl.
a ratio of freckles to starsvirginia,a ratio of freckles to stars2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
you are floating away in
of sunlight & marrow bones
i want to know
had vertigo then--
a certain horse sadness
i remember how you
would swallow the stars:
watch them glow through your cheeks
(no one told you
what they thought of light & dying
of being a constellation
drawn across your face)
you are the milky way:
a firefly drowning
but i will trail you--
hold your coat above the water
exploding a million miles away
with a number for a name)
Socially awkwardDo you know what it feels like?Socially awkward2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
To feel so socially awkward
around people that you feel
uncomfortable in your own skin,
knowing that you don't fit in.
And, you walk away...
thinking that being alone
will be better for you -
but you're wrong.
You just feel even more alone;
even more rejected from society;
perhaps even sad, in some way.
What do you do while waiting for someone?
As you wait, and wait, and wait for them -
hoping they'll come soon
lest you seem like a loner
walking aimlessly around,
causing people to pity you.
And your face gets hot,
you start to sweat because
they know -
they know of how alone you are
and they feel sorry for you.
i can make you love mewriters,i can make you love me2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
do you bend in
shaking with leaves?
a sinner's devotion
or that boy
in the other aisle
(i hold your books
and stroke the pages,
they haven't arrived:
(that was forty-five
hoping no one notices
that i've read this
as i watch him
slip behind the counter
(i devised a plan to
volunteer on fridays
and trap him)
as i read
for the fifteenth
Dear WriterDear Writer,Dear Writer2 years ago in Letters More Like This
I don’t like you. I’ve never liked you. Unfortunately, I need you. I need you to tell my story. I need you to create my world. I need you to set me free.
I need your fingers typing on those keys, I need your mind riddling out the problems, and I need you to plough onward and upward no matter how hard it gets. Sweat, blood, and tears, I don’t care. You’ve got to fight this war, battle at a time, and win it. So I can be more.
It’s a slim hope, but it is the only one I have. In your head I am bound to mortality, frailty, and the limit of your meagre imagination. Out there – out there – I am subject to no one person. Out there I am bound to only black on white. Words on a page. Words that can lay seeds within a million minds. Out there I am a story capable of growing, moving, and stealing the dreams of anyone who learns of me…
I don’t like you. I’ve never liked you. I hate your lack of dedication, your flashes of cru
Well...Well, you're not anorexic. So you must be fat.Well...2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
A fat, ugly person.
Well, you fit in with the crowd. You must be a fake.
A fake wannabe.
Well, you're happy. What are you hiding?
You've got to be hiding something.
Well, you're sad. You must be emo.
An emo attention seeker.
Well, you're popular. So you must be a jerk.
Why would anyone like you in the first place?
Well, you're quiet. You must be a nobody.
Nobody at all.
Well, you're you.
What else could go wrong?
Please, forgive me.Like lies, you saidPlease, forgive me.3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
I make breathing the cosmos
through rose colored lungs
look easy- vertebrae stretched
toward the moon.
& I'm hanging my bones
out to dry, carving Saturn's
rings into my wrists- my
star burst ankles.
I swore then I'd keep my
black tongued poetry
& uprooted limbs far,
far away from you.
But, like lies, galaxies,
& night fevers, you
are the destination
on my star map skin.
on unlearning how to diethe space between intention andon unlearning how to die2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
inaction has been redefined. they say
the first step to sadness is
to be happy. the second step
is learning loss. they tell us
depression is an abundance of emotions
but everyone here is a balloon
deflated with time, a sun
dimming as years eat away years
and everything changes but
nothing's really different at all.
we drowned before we even saw
the sea, dreaming of that cemetery
a million miles deep; and still,
I cry for the people worth forgetting:
the girl who couldn't take enough
sleeping pills to live her dreams,
the boy so doped out on an inability
to live that he told us about his trips
to Jupiter and back, and
expected us to believe him. the girl
with a ghost smile named after the prayer
she was born to forget, the boy
who slept like an angel and cried like
a fallen, and me, me
choking on gravity and the ever-growing
weight of my own fucking inadequacy
tied tightly around my neck like a noose
not quite designed properly, right,
because I survived.
lub-dubThere are loverslub-dub2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
I will never be able to
crawl out from underneath;
I’m caving in, lungs
no longer able
to exhale lovely things.
However hollow, I’ve got
these artist hands,
these god hands of mine
that can save lives.
What’s the point
when I’ve got little
& no one can ever seem
to find my pulse?
still,"i want grandchildren."still,3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
that car ride ruined some things
threw a wine bottle at the wall
15 years sitting
it was good enough or
it wasn't good enough
all the silence forced
my pride to jump out the window
if any rested in her
she showed it off like a speech bubble
tied it to her teeth
slammed it in the door
had it under her pillow for months
and years and years and years
there was no statement
there was no outstretched hand
just steering wheel clenching
knuckles white and jaw taut
(all because who i bed was not her mindful of
i still think i'm a tumor
she shows it off like a speeding ticket
i put a pin through it
i put it on her sweater
she never wears it
will you ever learn to love yourselfshe was deadwill you ever learn to love yourself2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
before she hit the ground
frazzled & 60 percent water
or whatever you call them
brimming on the bus & never
haven’t you ever seen clouds before?’
she threw a handful of stones
sinking like balloons
a hungry ghost
tracing the outline
of a breaking surface
Poetry,Poetry,Poetry,2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
it’s like cultivating a greenhouse
with broken fingers.