Since the beginning of it all
we've tried to be the individual
when we all pounded our head against the rock
in the very same rhythm.
Who was the first
to pick up a twig
to peel apart the bark
and see something to
more neatly split bones
and shiv their friend in the back?
Who was the first to find an
enclaved rock
so curved it caused their voice to
boom- so loud they could
see a fourth wall between them
and the gawking few.
Who?
Since the beginning of it all
we've tried to be the individual
when we all pounded our head against the rock
in the very same rhythm.
But only a few make a sound.
Tickle your toes. . .
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July 12th My love's hands and eyes so full of surprise! he sees nothing wrong with giving me a synthetic strawberry.
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confession is all: it is what my poetry is, and that is my life.
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Ah, 7. The number in question. During this process of developing my first full-length work of prose, and a memoir to boot, I have considered...
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there ain't no other place like you to roam. where I dug in my heels and said "No, I won't come home!" Dancing in the warb...
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wide-eyed and curious, he peeks from his shell with seaweed speckles, where 8 monarch butterflies landed permanently. he puts his footing on...
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driving home from the farmer's market- I can't see anything- through this storm- I come home to sleep- with you-rest in your arms fu... -
when our bodies clasp each other my heart lights a beach bonfire- and my toes forever step in it's embers.
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motionless sap. ogling your shadow, you have much thinking to do. has the potassium kicked you in the arse yet-and got you going? you a...
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July 9th i feel like running again. it's either that or swimming in a valley of tears. July 10th you couldn't tell by looking at us,...
Poets United Contributor
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