A Monster in My Bed
Last night I dreamed
She was in my nighttime thoughts also
At a foreign housecrowded with people
I watched from behind a glass pane
She danced andmingled
And with my face to the glass
She kissed him
We finally made eyecontact
Then tracks leading away from each ...
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Adrian is Afraid of Airplanes
His hallway sprint is a loss of control;
an art assigned to stability onsocks
sliding smoothly against squares of tile;
hands trembling, unable tohold up atmosphere;
searching for a hug to wring fear like dirty water
froma rag.
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Damn
Multi-faceted pain,
quell my will to live.
Trapped in this perpetual nothing,
broughton by years of torment.
I can't take it anymore.
Pry me apart ...
What apretty shade of crimson.
Kudos on breaking me down
soeffortlessly.
Discovering how to eradicate
all hope.
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Day After Christmas
This selection can be found in Teen Ink: Written in theDirt, the sixth in the Teen Ink book series, comprised all of fiction andpoetry. All six books are available in bookstores nationwide and online.
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Domestic Dissent
This is my silent rebellion.
I'm waiting for you to take notice.
This is thepeak of years-smothered anger.
I'm waiting to flail against you.
This is measserting myself.
I'm waiting for the slow effect.
This is me turning myback, not my cheek.
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Dreams
My dreams at dawn
grewmindlessly,
like
drops
of
rain
trickling silently
intostreams.
I laughed with
lightning-filled bliss,
grewbreathless.
My reverie flew into
eternal frontiers
only tovanish
like fainting shadows.
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Dwindle
I sifted through our box of memories
and pulled out experiences, tattered alongthe edges.
Trying to seal up the gap in me
that you left wide open,
Ifell into the abyss of your echoes
and never quite returned.
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Gasoline Rainbows
I hate the boys who sit in the street outside my room listening to
their CDs asif no one else has music of their own.
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Go Home Dreams
Sheruns to a place
Where warm winter wind
Tickles
Eardrums
Of prairiegrass
Flopped wistful
On the sod
That whispers incandescence,
Whispers solemnly
On rainy evenings
When horses retreat
Back tobarns
Dodging dust:
The fruit of flowers
Running ...
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Hot Boys
Hot boys, she says, are likeice cream
In a huge ice cream parlor.
There are too many flavors
And toolittle time. They have jeans
Worn like the back of my red Chevy
Fogging upthe window and clouding my vision
Of police lights and the man at mywindow.
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Hunger
This selection can be found in Teen Ink: Written in theDirt, the sixth in the Teen Ink book series, comprised all of fiction andpoetry. All six books are available in bookstores nationwide and online.
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It's a Blessing
It's a blessing.
A spinning spiraling ball of blessed
life and love in acrinkled brown sack.
And on the beach of death and loss I open the bag like apacked paper lunch.
I dump it out on the sands of time and watch the tidesweep it out to sea.
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Nostalgia
the bedraggled scrap of muddy shirt
was a fragment of my childhood
a reminderof my grandmother's sewing
and of the river i almost drowned in
it sang ofsuffocating summer
and hibernated through snowy days
at the bottom of acedar chest
consuming the earthy scent
as i ...
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On Poetry This April
Poetry is not the be-all or end-all.
I cannot compare it to either
an orgasm or ahot cup of tea.
Poetry is ignoring me.
Poetry doesn't wait for me
whileI dart into the supermarket.
Poetry's stoner cap
is pulled down
overplucked eyebrows.
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Summer of Seashells
While in Florida that summer,
when I received Mickey's autograph;
and the"Back to the Future" rides were unending;
and tornado warningsseemed like death;
and the beach was no fun
Because my infinite number ofcuts and scrapes
stung from the ocean,
and because I ...
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tailor-made
The is coral, apple green and blue
in a soft heap of linen and silk
losing hisfolds as he falls
he is collars, cuffs and sleeves
he was tailor-madefor her
every line and shoulder cut
to complement her own
sewn to formthe figure of a man
he is golden thread and ...
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The Orange Pills
The answers aren't the important part,
What's important is that yourespond.
Whether or not the suicide was visceral,
Or if it was just thewrong time.
Please give me the attention you gave to taking the orangepills,
To skipping school,
To wasting away in front of my eyes.
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The Rejection of the City
The metropolis swells
Of lurching steel frames
The people are its cells
Andthe streets are its veins
One thousand limbs crawling it expands andgrows
To consume all earth's goods
And fight the franchises'foes
You are the product of yesterday's idiot box set forth to ...
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Untitled
Bubble Yum on brown leather seats
Indelible watermelon-flavored memories
Commemorating prom monarchies,
High-school oligarchies, and lonely voyages
On Bluebirds.
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