Sunday, May 13, 2012

serenity now

stomp on the girl with cleats, step on her back and break it, she is what wiggles within your spine and saps it of dignity. sometimes strength is in your serenity, when your lips stand up taller than you. the corners of your mouth, the corners of the room, turning up turning over, not wrinkled and falling in. speak with your tongue, and not your teeth. you bite, you bleed me. you don't remember even though you were there. If you're going to be absent-minded, I'd prefer you were absent.
Posted by at

2 comments:

Subscribe to: Post Comments (Atom)

Reach for the clouds. . .

Tickle your toes. . .

  • thoughtful hillbillies
    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....
  • cryk
    there ain't no other place like you to roam. where I dug in my heels and said "No, I won't come home!" Dancing in the warb...
  • 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...
  • wh(y)?
    like me- it serves as a question as well as an appropriately foolish letter in bad company it only teams up with words like yodel, ...
  • small stone #4
    husband and I trek a mile for ice cream just for the creamy banana, crunchy pecans, and chunks of thumb-sized chocolate. shoes flipping and...
  • small stone #3
    Out the window, I thought I saw Emily pale, gawking. a green T-shirt. bouncing firey springs on her head.
  • storm
    driving home from the farmer's market- I can't see anything- through this storm- I come home to sleep- with you-rest in your arms fu...
  • blade of grass
    Tickling toes- there was something about that barefooted madness something about that wistful waist-high wishing and wooshing in the woods, ...
  • flirty
    lean in a little. say it like it's a secret. make your breath sound like italics. click your tongue against the roof your mouth then you...
  • in dreams
    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...

Poets United Contributor