A world demanding meaning alternates between cynicism and starry eyes.
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See, all a detail must do
is matter to be written down.
And all a detail must do to mean
is to occur,
I’ve got a list of adjectives, but you’re the poem.
Your eyes an image, your hands the parallels,
your mouth the irony, your actions so loud.
Steady as a repetition, boldness your surprise-Read More »
I’m suddenly disturbed by the awareness that
I’m suddenly feeling unsettled aboutRead More »
close to me as I scrawl.Read More »
You never croak, but you roar like a frog.
You bark an extended note, though you never howl.
You write her love songs, drunk on ale.
Buzzed on tea, I ink the sound down.
‘S’alright. My pen’s as neutered
as I always said it was.
And my love’s as strong as you strike
over, and over, and over again. Sway side to side.
I see the curves that your hips don’t make, Man.Read More »
Scrapes and scuttles above my bed
but beneath the record player crooning
carols for the sliders and shufflers
to grate and whoosh to-
Do tree and garland rise in the upstairs room?
Or does the furniture scoot to perfect
And that, for feet to twirl and sway-
for the first or hundredth time?
With arms open as wide as the heartsRead More »
My feelings towards you confuse me,
or at least they would
if I ever bothered to think about them.
I don’t.Read More »
After a month of nearly falling off the bottom of the earth,
Ma placed me in my bed, where I woke imagining
feeling wide-eyed, refreshed, wondrous of where I was-
jumping off the bed, landing in flexible splat as impossible
as the dogs I used to try to draw were ugly.
I didn’t really know how dogs’ heads or human bodies worked,
but I wanted a Lisa Frank retriever and my butt to be in the air,Read More »
You are in my heart, annoyingly-
a ghost I cannot truly grasp,
a crevice nothing else will fit inside.
So I write poetry,Read More »
My head is blank
up for grabs
up for sale
if you’re evilRead More »