Poetry

Not quite touching (the posts of our bed) we laid ignoring the alarms we set last night. Simply put they were quite calls to the height of our love, even when we were at their lowest bars – A singing phraseShe starts -Asking away for the dark notes of a rich melody of things we…

Outside, against the grindI fell towards the wallLeaning on my denim,presentBlack cords, docs – makeupMy brandUnwittingly playing vigilante with the street noiseI pretend to be warm to seem cool in the cold.I steal a glance – dating timeAs impatience is my virtueTouching on ethics – I’ve embracedHot drinks bring out the Yankee in both of…

When making meaning, it’s good to know What you think.It helps to tell delusion and grandeur from façade and factI try to make it easy by dividing my/self in two Writer & PersonThe brain self defeating– Self & The Character, I become. Pretending that things are okay,Tendencies to toss and turn in the quiet of…

A summer sun beat downForest trees ate it’s lightShimm’ring rapids carvedA path in stone we met.The wet dog I wasSwept away by wakesForgetting to breatheChallenged by stoneI prayed for helpPleading my caseDescribing reasonsFor not now leavingTwenty-six, still freshBlooded by faithSurrounded by loveNot quite deservedHow was I to knowSaint Michael himselfWas pulling the ropeClinched to my…

I clean the blood on my finger tipsFrom washing dishes with Lady MacbethShe glances over to tell me I’ve madeA mess – of the nights I’ve spentTossing up my dinner in the basketBesides my bed – an hourglass spills.I awoke, thinking my brother was dead.I texted him an apology.

It’s hard to believe that following an incident of madnessI’d be so quick to look out at the world again as if I knewBy some remote chance that I could be in love againThis isn’t to say thatI’ve fallen for someoneQuite the oppositeI’m opposed to itInstead I now searchHoping for disappointmentTrying to prove that it…

Some years ago I dateda woman who’s hair put Raspberry Kool-Aid to shame Being just as sweetOur jokes like a revolver spun around – one of us playing the match and the otherKerosene kisses burning through the late night hoursMy drunken fits werelit by blue moons Regardless of the sky I was happy despite all…

If I could write thisMy hands would be cold.Shaking free the colored pensShe writes “They are just high.”Bipolar sisters not alikeMore like cousins, not twins.Their name was forgottenFaceless panic held their voiceWhen further questions were asked,We all declined to answer.