ZemiThings having to be returned to their transparency:Zemi3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
/ green mist-earth / knit
atmosphere / fathomless
blue-lavender / lights
spun out from light
are recalcitrance / and you
& - a fingernail of summer
- a melting of rain
- a crown of flowers
- a priest of sunsets
(beautiful? I love you, because. Zemi.
Zemi. are you beautiful because I love
you? Zemi? )
I imagine this is what it's like to breathe sea foam
over the Cliffs of Moher: hydration. absolution.
To Rilke, it's a melody that floods over us
when we have forgotten how to listen for it.
I never could forget this: for how could I know
my hand as both well and chasm? and how could I know
time, a windstruck dimension, standing in her white street?
We go on morning walks and Zemi
laughs at everything I say.
I Am Not An ArtistI am not a poetI Am Not An Artist4 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
I am not a photographer
I am not a sculptor
I am not a writer
I am not a designer
I am not an artist
I don't write elaborate poems
I never finish a story
I can't mold things
I can't come up with millions of ideas
I don't have much talent
I do not have any of these things
But I have ambition
I do have help
I am progressing
But most of all,
In every work that I start
And every word that I write
Every ounce of feeling
And all my hard work
Comes from my heart
I am not an artist
I am a mercenary of trades
And I love everything that I do
I am not an artist
the starthis is the gospel of you:the star2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
i lay there,
naked and mortal and
crouched with large dark pupils,
a nymph and a priestess and a vision,
my muse who breathed soft wonderings,
on a bath mat
with a plastic yellow bucket.
you poured the water over my breasts and collar bone
and it was holy, holy, holy.
VerbatimOn June seventeenth at 2:33 PM, Jacob Fantana falls off the roof and hits his head. This is the approximate time that Cory later gives him. It is a particularly nasty fall: The house they had been roofing is two stories, built on a hill. At the hospital, the doctors wreathe thick gauze around Jake's head and subject him to a series of tests. Rachel cries as Dr. Dubey explains that x-ray computed tomography has revealed a mild skull fracture and bruising on his inferior frontal gyrus. Jake stares without interest at the diagrams and fiddles with his bandages. He attempts to console Rachel, but he is embarrassed, and worried about his insurance copay.Verbatim1 year ago in Short Stories More Like This
They keep him overnight for observation. As Rachel drives him home the next day, she repeatedly reaches over to touch Jake's hand on the armrest. He smiles politely and grasps her fingers in return. Through the window, he watches the bland streets of Sandusky pass by. The brakes on Rachel's Lumina whine quietly at every stoplight. Ja
Sometimes I wish I knew the girls I write about.Believing God speaks to her in riddles,Sometimes I wish I knew the girls I write about.3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
She feels most alive
when hanging out of windows.
A fearless free faller
with an adventurers heart,
and innocent New York eyes.
and impossible to snuff out-
Forgive her, sweet father,
for she has sinned.
It's been three
my lover went to Japanmu-onna moans into my lover's ear the songmy lover went to Japan1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
of her witchcraft. i can hear his soft coo back,
his slick wrist maneuvering the way only men do.
mu-onna is the nothing woman.
my lover's neck burns crimson when i'm with him
and evaporates at her touch.
ghost, she is, like lost soul or misplaced matter.
mu-onna, the walls call.
seep back into our hollow creases.
on a night made of confessions and no control,
i found her on my lover's tongue.
her blood had veined its way into his words
and i, in a frenzy of blinks & sterile noise,
strangled mu-onna out of his skin.
when she fleets through a room,
a window breaks inaudibly,
a door creaks but you cannot hear the sound.
instead, the waves of her nothingness
crack wood, glisten glass, choke the surroundings.
how did you make empty so complicated?
if you were to cease existence,
would we be full of everything
or would there be even less?
my lover has mastered your curves,
turned your invisibility into a bedroom game.
he asks me to
astrology.i lost my cigarettes today whileastrology.3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
sparing kisses to too many witches
with apastron blackberry tongues.
& like the scattered stars of scars,
saturn's rings whispered secrets
to the telescope eyes of these strangers
cradling galaxies between lovely bones-
( their fingertip heat
knowing nothing of intermissions. )
I'm Not a GameI'm going to kill you with kindness,I'm Not a Game4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Softly break your heart of stone.
I'll make you feel loved, wanted, wonderful,
Like how I just wanted to feel.
I'll spread fissures through your heart
and expose the beating flesh beneath.
Then slip a dagger through the cracks,
And take your bitter heart beat.
My name will be on your lips,
My love and hate your last memory.
I'm going to kill you with kindness
Because thats what you did to me.
Sky EyesDesert hands tell talesSky Eyes3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
of a hundred arid summers, but
you are no longer as cloudless as they
(there is a storm
creeping through blue, blue veins).
But tell the sky to keep her sorrow,
that grey cascade blurring against
eyelids and horizons;
and suppress her misbegotten
droplets, seeping into the sodden
for there is still sun in your sky eyes.
hearts are for rebuilding_ci.hearts are for rebuilding_c6 years ago in Philosophy & Perspectives More Like This
when i remember you, i remember the way you laughed when i mixed up teaspoons and tablespoons.
i remember the way you refused to eat the cake because you said it was too salty and the way i stood crying over the sink when i shoved it down the disposal. i remember how you left me standing in the middle of the floured, sugared, baked-on-mess kitchen to finish the tivo-game, patting me on the back and saying nice try.
it was when i was wiping my tears with the back of my hand that i best remember holding my heart close, telling it nice try. maybe next time wed fall in love with someone who saw us when they looked, who cared about stomping all over the most vulnerable of spots.
when i remember you, i remember crashing out of love.
i know it was bittersweet, but i cant remember anything but the burn.
and now i am thinking maybe the cake was too salty. maybe my hands shook when i was making it because you were standing behind me, your laureate finge
HowlI beat the street out of my lungs. BurnedHowl2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Those pages of salvation until the ink boiled red.
When they finally caught me I cursed every soul still on
Their knees and damned the midnight lamps that
bled through two-faced windows. When they told me
“Son, you have nothing to howl about.”, My voice
Became a whisper. In the prison they put us in
There are no bars, guards, or machine gun towers.
People come and go like moths to hellfire.
Like mass extinction and funeral pyres.
Not once did I think about escaping. Until,
The girl in the cell next to mine started screaming. Until
She clawed so deep her arms started breathing. Until
She swallowed that bullet and called it leaving. Until
I finally learned what it really meant to stop bleeding.
I started seeing through the blank pages and white walls.
Underneath it all, different prophets sing the same song.
The greatest minds of my generation weren’t driven to madness.
They were born to it. Their first breaths
Witch TrialI believe I was a ginger headed poet in a past life,Witch Trial3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
who wrote love through magik spells
burning candle wax, whispering incantations
under a full moon and painting pale,
naked flesh with dirt and ash.
Dancing with ghostly ravens through flames,
to the thumpthumpthump of my storm heart,
as it became one with the earth.
I roared my passions and my glory
to the heavens above, laughing
like a crazy eyed crone for the sake
of those who feared me.
My witches tongue, hissing, 'Come hither!'
as heat licked my shoulders like an old lover,
I am trying to be honest,but I write so fucking floweryI am trying to be honest,3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
it makes me sick,
rose scented stars & love.
Her: helpless as a lamb,
I want raw, aching
bone against bone
exploring the exposed, naked
poetry of her universe-
( warm, celestial hands
forging sandcastle ribs. )
Southern earth beneath her feet,
wanderlust burned like Apollo's touch
into her spinal cord, please awaken
the empty space between her skin
needed.a letter of honesty:needed.6 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
written from the heart, she has nothing to say to you. snow lions whisked her away in the blizzard of catastrophe your hurricane sent on her- erupting lava from every pore in her metaphysical corpse.
she'd like me to tell you, though, that she's watching you, every move. not in the sad, sadistic way, she says, but more of the guardian angel way. she wants you to know that.
she wants you to know that she's happier now, with penguins to write love letters to and teacups made of real china, the kind you could never afford. (you always said that love alone was enough.) i remember mother telling me that love alone would never feed four children- but this isnt about me.
she wants you to know that she watches your fingers type lies of "i dont knows" and "im fines" to people who dont really give a shit- she says to excuse her french.
she'd also like to say congratulations, and sorry, because she knows she cant tell you what she's happy for you about. she admits to discombo
PruningThe year is silent in the cul-de-sacPruning9 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
you called my heart, but I am empty
with an appetite
for smoke or charring bites of lightning.
They think it's beautiful;
this hollow - they wish upon it,
tie splints of charity because it's hope,
but they are marooned starlings
all red as the Midwest sun
and nomads in her sand.
I am tired
of being liked for the clarity of my broken
(though maybe if you stopped looking at me
like I was wounded, I could start closing up),
for the helpfulness of my tongue,
or the perspective of death-bound eyes.
But there is no pride in holding the Self
together, in blowing moonward kisses
to gods, "please take me away,"
and truly wishing to fall asunder.
They don't know. They don't know,
they don't know...
like barbs in a sea-weathered throat,
eyes too dry to grasp the fault
but the mouth... a sinner through and through.
They don't know what it's like to wilt -
then be worshiped for the way your flower fell.
Starving sleep and apologies.My sleep is starving.Starving sleep and apologies.2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
It is shivering sweat like snow
across my shoulders as I sob scream
after scream against your skin;
"sorry, I'm so sorry,
go back to sleep."
I am sad
and struggling to stay
together but you slump
against my sickness
and hold me
burn this mirror.this is the point i write a hook loud enough for you to hear it. i craft the words out of cells and marrow and spill them on the page in the right numerical order; hit just the right notes in time to bleed me dry. i write the truth in the harsh light under the kitchen sink right before i throw it down the garbage disposal where it belongs. i can't turn from the mirror on this white sheet of paper, and i can't shatter the reflection spewing from the ink of my pen. i can close my eyes and scream and cower in the corner and over the shrillness of my voice and under the shadow of my blindness, i will still be confronted with the truth of myself. i cannot run from my demons when they are what i am.burn this mirror.5 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
the truth is i will bring you the highest of your highs and the lowest of your lows. i will catapult you through the atmosphere and then be the anchor that drops your heart through the wood-plank-floor. i am a bottle marked antidote filled to the brim with the latest poison. i have the cure on my
I would love to give upi.I would love to give up2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
'there's a second hand that holds mine, and stuffs the words back down my throat.'
her voice a crack--
sticks & stones breaking
between her teeth
but when she tries to find the sound
her pen runs dry
[can someone flip the switch to 'yes' or 'no'
i've been so de
& my head is saying 'maybe']
(i would ask myself,
but i don't trust liars)
she tries to string the words
down a thread
but they always c r u mb l e
(& the cinders burn
with the same old questions)
but when you turn
she'll be gone
there are rocks in her throat when she asks you for help.
the words grind to sand on her tongue.
smoke in her head
smeared across her hands
her fingers are broken;
o k e d
she reaches for some kind of
at the corner
& turn of each & every page
Whistle+++Whistle3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
i am the wicked edge of ricochet,
the asphyxiation of dust
in a hummingbird's bones. skeleton,
i am silver, grass torn hollow
by a child's breath. corkscrewing,
my veins etch true reflections
on time's skin:
a cardigan crumpled
like a child. Blue
and torn in half.
love poem from a pillar of saltthe words 'i love you'love poem from a pillar of salt2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
have always tasted like forbidden fruit
an apple offered by a helpful serpent-
sweet and fleeting but
the words 'i loved you'
just taste of
i always thought that leaving you would be like leaving gomorrah
that i couldn't help looking back
and when i did i'd feel an ocean dry itself beneath my skin
but this is so much quieter
and so much worse.
my knuckles taste of blood,
there is no new testament here
just old testament fire
just lot's wife standing on a forgotten hill
rocksalt freezing her outstretched hands
watching her hometown burn below her.
there is no forgiveness here
just mutual loneliness
just a lost religion and a broken girl
far too tired to play pretend
watching you fall apart behind me.