I know inside you are screaming.
the rings around your heart-pulsate
your memories of them lost-now
all you have left are the stains
of children's well-meaning finger-tips
and cut spidery-web veins.
singing. swallowing. stuck.
A voice inside you leaps out.
and now you want to pound out
a list of real names, and
paint real faces-like a lineup
of who did it-apologize,
apologize now.
half-rolled down window-body
half out-yelping what happened to that
16 year old girl who was happy to
feel the night air on her bones-
with eyes cast high welling
looking at trees. looking at
trees.
Tickle your toes. . .
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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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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... -
The Opera The eyes of the firing-squad are aimed with lashed cross-hairs for now we, the chorus, all look like oiled up black ducks in a ro...
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At age 25 for Sir John Donne Down went San Felipe. Crimson and pale, rippling, clinging to it's mist. Oh, how that flagship hurled itsel...
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in August for John Keats I didn't die unrequited. I took a wife in August. My wife was wearing silky white shoulders holding out her bon...
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I thought it would be fitting to do an original of mine, but one of it's earlier drafts. I have recently reworked this poem so it includ...
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and now that the anger is gone there may be a few more glimpses like looking out of the window through a thin veil of silk. a look in...
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The Anchor for Joel When love embarks, with its generating propellers slicing through the interminable oceans of imperfection that are, for ...
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Exhibit A: When this was first documented, I was more flattering of him than I should of been, but it was another reminder of that star-spe...
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There is something spooky about me. I am certain of it. Or else why does the thought of you dying for me, somehow slightly perk me up. Bette...
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