An old poet arrives at a reading, sits alone, waits his turn. He holds old words close to his still beating chest. To the room,… Read more “An Old Poet”
Heat lightning hiccups in the sky. A black breath caught between two Pink lungs—grasping air. A bruised cloud. A girl I Held, overheard once. She wrenches.… Read more “Damn, Man, I Wrote a Girl Who Rains”
Whispers warmed my ear, so I opened my eyes. I took her in, held her face. She leaned into me. Her thighs, like jaws,… Read more “She Called Me a Dirty Word”
The trees hold air sad to the branch. As I, bated breath, coarse & slow, hold beat to breast. Under blind, I walk the foolish air… Read more “Sad to the Branch”
The hills are coated in message boards & chatroom callers; dirty with arms & poems about shoulders. My lesson was learned so completely at the hands… Read more “Cataracts”
I missed a call from my heart. I wonder what it wanted.