It’s like magic. The way we fly at 3am, the way we lie, lay in bed. I haven’t prayed in bed for a while now. You’re like magic. People are like books or readers. I’m your favorite story. Your favorite listener. No one will ever read you like I do. No one has ever known… [Read more…]
January 4, 2011
Sent 12/15/10 1:00am What drew you to the bed where I slept? Wept… My eyes grew red and hot, Their corners brimmed full, in ire, in sadness, in what I thought… had killed this binding But you came in and killed, instead, the bedside lamp You kissed like you refused to lose And still, you… [Read more…]
July 15, 2010
I hurt because I’m hurting. It’s fair fair how dare you slink around my quarters not knowing that I’m your unfeigned first shooting star how dare you share my bed with me … kiss me, drag me through How dare you resurrect what tortures I bet I could make you cry why Would you say… [Read more…]
April 20, 2010
It smells like rain and reveries Like the mild middays of spring Ravens sing A coat of timber wolf tints the sky Its weak clouds don’t hold their fill They spill Dampen the evergreens I remember the smell: Wet pines wrap a nice square around Grandmother’s acres The border keeps the forest, thick and tall,… [Read more…]
January 21, 2010
There’s an antique Underwood Universal Portable, battered of course, in the window. Naturally, it’s your class of restaurant. The lounge serves greasy tuna melts, their buttered and grilled sourdough burnt. Withering Swiss. Black pitted olives mingle with the shredded fish. Yes, you believe, that’s what you’ll order. It’s a Saturday kind of Sunday. And that… [Read more…]
January 18, 2010
Spiders creep along the floor Edging, sneaky, by the door On the meal mat, by my drink Wet limbs tangled in the sink Wedged ‘tween straws in closet’s broom In corner’s refuge, in my room I kill
November 6, 2009
My teacup is empty The pavement is dampened. Their veins are flattened against it is cold. And it is more than the dank and nip of fall It forebodes, dark in a sense impure My cower precedes my will to be frightened I am already trembling Mad wind is an imp-carried song Rain hits the… [Read more…]
October 5, 2009
I can, too, whistle. I’ve done it a few times if my lips made the right “o” and the wind was fair. But can you sing a tune, silly girl? And her tongue strained to make a little lamb cry. The kind as white as snow. And every note she failed first try. And second.… [Read more…]
September 4, 2009
Mumbling murderer, keep your milkstache from licking the butt of your nose. Wipe it clean. It’s as bad as red hands (the stain of the guilty). You speak with your mouth full, you wicked dupe. Your malevolent plots bubble in the white in your cup. I filled it. And placed a fix of poison. Dropped… [Read more…]
July 14, 2009
like little soft-haired felines with spidery long legs in a tangle miao the undersides of dresses show when precious monsters wrangle how do you suppose they’ll grow, you know, with mothers in disgraces or the little curious boys atop door steps, snot strong still on their faces for one sock endearing scrunches low, her other… [Read more…]
April 6, 2011
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