I do not dare be secretive
in my art, in my words,
I want everything I say to ooze love to all,
like a pearl-less oyster onto thirsty sand.
ache ache ache with questions
"what does that metaphor mean,
and was that semicolon intentional,
and what is she still seeking answers for-
What is a God, if she is a momentary one?
Is she still a feminist,
is she a female-Christ,
is she still unhappy about the 2004 breakup?
Girl, get over yourself!
Tell us more, we still don't know you."
Give me a rainbow of beads to
string together, another story
of full-circle childhood,
equalling present frustrations-
a knot at the end.
"Oh have a baby, already,
you say your clock is ticking
you have enough children
akin to sans serif song-writing
sing for us won't you oh, songbird
an orgasmic story-ending,
friendship-ending
neighbor-alienating
scream."
Tickle your toes. . .
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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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when I was a little girl I was taught try your hardest to avoid any difficult knot. Tie your ties loosely. So loosely they hang to the sides...
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for Allen Ginsberg i am not blue. i am a sunflower of more than one color. though i hold too much water until i am green, i am not blue. i a...
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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...
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shake up my heart and flavor your life it is full of holes. you cannot see me for I am brow deep in my old pain and I cannot speak because I...
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RICK: Hey Rick? DICK: Yea, Dick? RICK: See that sky roll on by? (points) DICK: ...Oh, my... RICK: Don't i-t'almost makes yer wanner.... -
when we are twisted up together-in blankets and the colors of the outside of our window- are washed out in the storm.
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Happy April. I am currently working on this month's series "you don't remember anything, even though you were there." ov...
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hunger is sometimes preferable to loneliness. a stomach will twist- but hands become dirty and heavy when full of coins.
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nipped at the ankles which is how I wander through life sometimes I must be pushed through a door finally opened after years of knock...
Poets United Contributor
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