Saturday, March 5, 2011

Trees

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.
Posted by at

No comments:

Post a Comment

Subscribe to: Post Comments (Atom)

Reach for the clouds. . .

Tickle your toes. . .

  • Memoir of a Memoir: Week 7
    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...
  • Memoir of a Memoir: Week 4
    Though it hasn't been months since I have written and attempted edits within my memoir, it has been quite some time since I have reflect...
  • Memoir of a Memoir: Week 5
    Recently I have been really attempting to delve into what it means to be a poet. Jim Morrison once wanted to be a poet, and look where it go...
  • Oh Boy!
    I was just awarded the Stylish Blogger Award! (awarded by John Evans ) I was asked to write 7 things about myself,and to award 10 ot...
  • A girl in a shabby green coat, on a railway-station platform
    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...
  • Day 1 of NaPoWrimo!
    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...
  • Memoir of a Memoir: Week 6
    My latest endeavor is to begin reading "Tell it Slant: Writing and Shaping Creative Nonfiction" by Brenda Miller and Suzanne Paula...
  • in tact
    sex object. not afraid of the words. I've used many objects for the sake of sex. in fact my body has been pretty disposable- I don't...
  • (no title)
    Cal, For Elizabeth Bishop You are American gossip, Didn't anyone have the heart to tell you? You said yourself, you are fantastic and u...
  • small stone #8
    Another Indian woman living on our block has hair swept back and braided has jeweled toes, is in all yellow traditional regalia, and walks w...

Poets United Contributor