Category: Poetry
Why Write?
Because there’s not enough time. Because there’s too much time, sometimes, pressing against our heads. Shakespeare said, “Uneasy lies the head that wears a crown.” Each mortal wears a time crown. Sometimes we reject this crest. Squander it. Writers strive to be responsible with time. To freeze, revise, control it. Read more
In a Relationship
She will give way too much, a rubber band unaware of its elastic limits stretching farther than she should, stubborn silence causing tears in her rubber. He will fear that sacrificial self-gift so he will give only what he believes is needed Fully intentional within his limits, refusing to earn Read more
midget
My ready defense is self-deprecation. Before you can stare, I’ll tell a joke about my body. Put you at ease, it hurts me inside. The boundary between humor and reality is blurred. My dwarfism as a disability often comes into question. Though its portrayal as your entertainment does not. It Read more
diary of a false assassin
it starts with love, or a lot of like he’s crazy cute, right? he’ll say anything to make you let him it takes you by surprise even though you know how it works hoping it wouldn’t ≠a plan to prevent it you don’t tell anyone then you tell everyone have Read more
14 Detours to Asia
I drove into your heart with a cracked side mirror. Landed on your skin with my brakes squeaking rumours. I kissed your earthly eyelids sighing poetry, movie scenes, bad breath. I touched my memories with words, lying awake with a pen and paper, sleep is a luxury for the living. Read more
Moon’s Song
If you desire to measure how far you have trekked, across meadows and deserts of emotion, and oceans of storm-filled nights, look back toward the horizon. For there remains, soaked in your tears, the crumbling bones of all your relationships. The harmful sort, which once upon a time took hungry Read more
Ariel
the bluebird sings yew trees grin a sunless mourning snow falls solemn angels wait, but it’s winter white summer heels petticoat prettied books, babies, poetry a tea sandwich cut in two, white cold milk open the bedroom window but, it’s winter shh, sleep sleep beautiful gentle sleep, a lady always Read more