Category: Uncategorized
-
Calle
I am a street. Long and eventful. Small green fingers reach through my cracks toward the bright halo sun. They root under my thin asphalt mask and deep into my skin of matted soil. I didn’t ask to be a street. I never would have wanted this tacking of rock…
-
Wings Closed
Open eyes and long legs. I feel like a heron. Stalking the pond with no real drive except to stalk. My stomach is full. I could eat more. But, why eat if I’m content? What do I do if I’m content? My claws press deep into the soft pond bed.…
-
A Humid Desire
I want you to come to me like the moon on a slick black night. Arising like a beacon to directionless ships adorning the softly burnt breeze like tepid leaves falling to their earthly decay. Won’t you hang off my lips? Like gentle words that string together a ladder of…
-
Asphalt Sky
I want to be a race car. Feel the gravel burn from the traction of my bare calloused feet. I’ll run until the stars are in my mouth. Across the breaths of heaven. Across the dust that parts those of us below that are born from mothers and those above…
-
Either Way
My world is rattling again. From open to closed. Like an iris dilating with the brightness of the sun. Is it light? Or is the moon overhead? I can’t seem to tell. Everything I am is bouncing between the safe hold of your raging, cascading arms, and the deep haloed…
-
I’ll Be Great
The world is a stove and I’m scared I’ll get burned. I wave my hand over it cautiously testing its vivacity. The heat rises calmly enveloping my hand like a glove with no shape. Is it a sign of current blaze? Or past? I can’t tell. And I don’t have…
-
Love Is A Lot
We’re so far. But, I’ve never felt this close to you. These days I screech through ache. They turn my mind and body through canals of pain disguised as joy. Yet, you still find a way to be painted along the sweeping waters. Along the jagged white water surfaces of…
-
Moon
The Moon would’ve told me your name if I asked. I could see the beads of your vowels glinting against its dusty mirrored surface. Luring me in like a question that’s proud of having no answer. But I preferred the work of searching for your jumping consonants through cursive concrete…
-
To Fail Is To Win
I wish I could write about her. But I can’t. The candles blow out when my fingers near the ink. She holds something more than that can be written. And I never want to dilute what she holds to the world. To try would be to fail. And I don’t…
-
Hi, MTV. Welcome To My Friend’s Crib
Open doors. I sit on the couch of a friend who is more than that to me. The leather of the couch always seems a slight bit dampened by the ever breathing hanging sulk of dog. My friend’s roommate’s dog. A distant relative to me. And I treat him like…
