You, look out the window.
See that there is more to life
than what bangs around in your brain
These frustrations in me coarse
from there to my feet and back
again, And oh how it burns, red
I want to take flint to the
rocks in your head.
But I stand beside you,
I stand waiting,
no longer negating,
I ignore the dirt lining the sill
I forget that I have a separate will
and I stand beside you.
Tickle your toes. . .
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two squinting painted eyes looking solemn on a leathery face. this knight of the golden age has a 20 gallon bucket of a hat atop his slicked... -
to have sticky pins for fingertips and ballpoint pens for thumbs. then I could fascinate myself to you, and write away doldrums.
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In my dreams I am the fictional version of myself. The one I seek to be in my short-stories and prose. The one who gets her point across but... -
Out the window, I thought I saw Emily pale, gawking. a green T-shirt. bouncing firey springs on her head.
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July 7th the face of a rose deflates our windowsill- not much of a garden. July 8th after the party- a painting is crooked I think someone d...
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Tickling toes- there was something about that barefooted madness something about that wistful waist-high wishing and wooshing in the woods, ...
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our silence comes easy and there is much to it the commingling of our fingers and the swapping of palm oils and the nimble saltation of ...
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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,...
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Dear, Run. Arrows in your belly and ribs and rear you were once wounded, dear. Limping, Heartsick, Struggling to catch up green from my succ...
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This is just a short note from me to inform you that after my extensive monthly study and subsequent written exploration of Psalms and Prove...
Poets United Contributor
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