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. . .
-
it's not possible. I think the problem must be- too much love and hate.
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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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Out the window, I thought I saw Emily pale, gawking. a green T-shirt. bouncing firey springs on her head.
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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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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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My latest endeavor is to begin reading "Tell it Slant: Writing and Shaping Creative Nonfiction" by Brenda Miller and Suzanne Paula...
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I dismiss my mounds of paper, habitual piling. I embrace a soft blue-jay's tail.
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It's not the pen It is the ink But it is the dishes and not the sink and it's never in your eye but in your wink it's just froze...
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The fog has permenantly frosted the window pane- my fingers tracing, communicating nothing, I leave perpetual markings--eternal my love for ...
Poets United Contributor
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