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 danced too close to it.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
Tickle your toes. . .
-
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...
-
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...
-
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...
-
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...
-
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...
-
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.
-
Happy April. I am currently working on this month's series "you don't remember anything, even though you were there." ov...
-
hunger is sometimes preferable to loneliness. a stomach will twist- but hands become dirty and heavy when full of coins.
-
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
I like that both stones are about the after effect of life - which, of course, is still life. Very good - Moskoreena
ReplyDeleteThanks, man! awesome comments as always.
ReplyDeleteAh ... very nice !
ReplyDeleteVery nice indeed. Small stones were once mountains...nicely chiseled images.
ReplyDelete