Kingdoms and Umbrellas

My mother always told me to find a man who treats his mother right…   Please don’t look at that girl that way with her bangs hanging loose over her glasses. Why can’t she be reading in a cafe? She looks like a Katy or a Cynthia. Her braid trickles down to  her third rib….

Temple

If you look inside of you, you should not see the remains of a former lover, a man who once gripped your arm and sewed your lips shut with his. His hollow mind should not encapsulate your skull, one that could be brilliant. You should not see a coward, a girl who is afraid of…

Confessional

I don’t understand this post-modern bull crap. The writer and the soul of the poem should sing sweet sounds and fall into a harmony that is genuine, unfragmented – beautiful. Why did the writer stop flying out of her cage? Her success has led her to stay at home feeding a baby who has an…

Sailors

We are not sailors. But you put us on a ship. Told us to man the deck. Gave us rope and a wheel and said “go”. The sea is not our home. We do not like the sounds or the smells. Empty bottles line the bow. To forget, to remember. To feel, to numb. The songs…

Wet Socks

Anxiety is being caught in the rain. You were in pure sunshine, rays warming your freckled skin. Then – thunder, lightning, heavy rain drops falling fast, hard, and cold. It catches you when you’re made-up and pretty, without an umbrella, and everything is now ruined: your feet are cold and gritty in the wet socks….

Bodies on Concrete

Blue bodies on cold concrete; mildew grazing up against dehydrated skin soaked with liquor and caffeine. Adrenaline replacing purpose, rent replacing homes. Counting down on chipped and gnawed-off fingernails how many hours left – Quickly passing drinks and secrets. This is no party, this is no ball, this is simply a gathering of souls –…

Blood Still Blue

I wanted you to be someone I could rest my bones with, some warm entity that would hide me from a colder world. I could burrow into your sweater. I could pretend I am someone else. My skin is dry and my lips crack. But your hot touch does not reach my veins and your…

Beware Time

Beware Time. Beware Its empty promises that every moment contains a memory and that you can choose to make more of your time. Time is a liar, a thief, a dream, and an escape. Much of what you have is nothing – the nothingness of sleep, work, crying, and walking back and forth forgetting what…

Music

It wasn’t his fault that he heard a hard bass and a fast tempo and that he wanted to pound his fist against hard tables. He was born with the sort of anger that imprisoned him and drove him to success. But she heard violins and falling leaves and the shhh of water down a…

Waiting and Sunset Skies

We’re waiting on cold kisses, cooled off after hours of no talk, no touch, no more words to say. Your lips go cold and mine do too. It’s cold, and I’m waiting for the heat. I’m waiting on the red blink on the phone that begs me to answer, and so I do right away…

Babel

How far do we go? At what point does a kiss become a distant fraction of a memory, something you can’t vividly see in the haze of all the dark blue past. And when that becomes a dull feeling in the back of your beating brain, then what? What more do you want when that…