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- Poetry > Free Verse
I’m almost grown but I own a dangerous sort of pain: In the foot I’ve yet to gain there’s room enough to hang. An empty house and empty sobs, have room enough for what would rob my family of a wretch. Then when they’d cry, the mass would try to dig me out of bed. and though I lo... - Poetry > Free VerseWhen we were little we hid behind those pines at the preschool, remember? Our identical light up shoes sinking through fallow needles and fat brown mud. We walked around for hours, meeting beetles in the tracks, and said that they were ours, in those hands that had no cracks. our lashes ...
- Poetry > Free Verse“Grandparents' house”; coffee table buried at the ankles in an olive floral rug; picture it, sediment blanketed on a 68" by 95" faded hedge-y growth, wild blossoms hugging the carpet's skin like the curb does white picket fences, imagine; fraying tassels feeling their way between carpet ...
- Poetry > Free VerseThe cig sits on my lips, heavy, dragging ghosts out of my chest like the moon drags teenagers from their places. Brother, it's 1:30 AM, pull something important from that filter, you only live once, you know, and you don't want to waste another epoch so just take it, let it roll around...
- Poetry > Free VerseCherry wood and something foul, the moon is just a slit in the sky tonight, slenderman sits in the branches outside your triple pane glass guard, he whistles so high you can only hear it if you try, you clasp your hands to your chest- clear- shock therapy will get you no where, I know that look, mak...
- Poetry > Free VerseI was behind you. Laying sorely in the back passenger seat between final reviews and discarded pants and you were upset. I tore at your shoulders, tense, and cold, as soothingly as I could manage because the whole world was tired. It had no stars to keep it company, no clouds to lie down with, or...
- Poetry > Free VerseAnd before we knew it we were gloriously outdone: the three of us, and a world of colors so much more exciting than our own. Deeper than the sea and more lambent than sunup, blues and pinks twirling comely around, teasing retna with flashes of plum scurrying, only a little faster than our planet ...
- Poetry > Free VerseI've been here all my life. And tonight I know that there are 168 visible stars on our backdrop, and I see now that the mesquite has been bleached by full moons and oil rig UV since before I was born. I've been here all my life and for the thousandth time I wonder what color dirt is around the...
- Poetry > Free VerseMotivational posters try so hard don't they? Look, Work Ethic; I appreciate the effort but you are 30 X. 22 inches backed by an ink print thinner than father's hair, your edges aren't quite far enough and sister's pot smoke can crouch around corners so I think you and Acceptan...
- Poetry > Free VerseSummer. I hate you. Every year my skin dies, each cell a beacon of the memories made; laughs are slaughtered by the sky. Annually I lose touch with all the people I've loved the past ten months, and annually it is only the sun and the grass and the house and I. June brings the sun for a g...
- Poetry > Free VerseIt was a religious experience really. We bent at an alter of sorts, and sacrificed our reservations, we poured hormones in the goblet and drank deeply, our names are now scattered about my bed like ashes; torn and kinked and wet and tired. So tired. Like air in May. We clasped our hands together ...
- Poetry > Free VerseJune air. Always tired and worn thin. As thin as the earth beneath us, as the sheets between us, as thin as the red slipping around inside fathers. It licks our skin passion fruit, having been left sickly white like recent sky, and suddenly warmth leaks from paints above us, loaning the mesquite som...
- Poetry > Free VerseThe mesquite laid a thick, heavy sweat about the air that night. My love and I could hardly breathe through the symphony of plastic bags caught in the brush, through the moonlight's canvas. And something about the clouds stirred us. I stole away my cello, he bagged his camera, and we took our c...
- Poetry > Free VerseThe teacher split the room in 2. Students pitted against each other; 4 to 19. I counted. 23 children were made to wage war over the use of the Atom Bombs at Hiroshima, and Nagasaki. Those in support flew to the west end of the room, those of us against... forced east. The teacher prompted the we...
- Poetry > Free VerseI sat in the parking lot, another stupid day. I saw him. Strolling over sidewalks and ant hills like he was invincible. His hat matched his shirt, both were so alive they could have been targets. The hat leaped from the sidewalk and began to stride aloft the gravel that hunted him. STTRRRRRRR-K. Tho...
- Poetry > Free VerseAnd you thought it was remarkable how timid my pen is. When I wrote, you called it meek, words in place of blows, of throws, of a man's brawn and an iron will, but these are monoliths. I drop them from my mouth and break, and build, and make, and kill. Because I am God, and I stir every...
- Poetry > Free VerseMy life is on a grayscale; a delicate clash of black and white and everything in between, its funny though, as I close to always write with color. I wipe memories of contrasts and adjacent tones across a page, I grab at ghosts of hues to say what words cannot, but I do not SEE these. I try and remem...
- Poetry > Free VerseAnd here we are again, all three of us. In the rocky depths of brother's house. We lie fat man style upon separate couches, limbs sprawled like woody roots, deep and hallowed, we do not bend. And you might think it was too late, but breakfast is just served, sitting only miles away through ...
- Poetry > Free VerseI've always liked to watch as I write. Streaks of black dripping off my fingertips, it makes my eyes water. I've always liked to see the pencil work for me, although it wasn't always a peaceful labor. You see, sometimes my poems push back. But then, I've never been a poet. I ...
- Poetry > Free VerseMy hands are long and thin My fingers look awfully like legs And my father always told me they were holy, Made for a musician. But I'm an arachnophobe, and I slide as slowly and as lightly as I can away from them as they creep over my cello's neck, poison artists breaking skin of mine...
- Poetry > Free VerseWhen the house is dark and dead, and nears the time for bed, I put on Chopin's Nocturnes. I smother the volume to a ghostly hum, so low that I can only hear it if I stop breathing. Wrapped in heat and trapped in sheets I listen to the black swimming across my comforter, and curl my toes as i...
- Poetry > Free VerseI like the carpet so close to my face, it really ties the mood together. I like the carpet touching me so firmly, I've never liked being dominated but there is just something so god forsaken and romantic about pain. There is something in the way the ground is SO close, and so FAR that mak...
- Poetry > Free VerseWords are… Flavorful. So don’t you dare ever allow yourself to merely spit them out. Clumsily. Lazily. No. You have to savor them. You’d best pay close attention to how they glide from your throat. How they leap from your lips, or maybe they cautiously “sit-and-scoot” their way from the...
