it was just a matter of standing
too close to the curtains
or leaning against dry timbers
which was easy
as those not on fire got nervous
if we were too close
All tagged Poetry
it was just a matter of standing
too close to the curtains
or leaning against dry timbers
which was easy
as those not on fire got nervous
if we were too close
i dove towards the shape further [past/
passed] my reflection / consider i
never planned on surviving
By the door, Simon and River appear as they want to, as they choose,
and they let me hold them against the soft of my body. River tolerates this,
and I know he must be the older, wiser brother while Simon just purrs, purrs,
right now I’m shunted away in concrete, brick, and uptown robbery stats//surrounded by other people’s money
I’m succumbing to cosmic osmosis/ I’m seeping out of myself/ sieving
into ether/ into sepulcher/ I’m wounded (as an asteroid lurches into oblivion)/
i felt that hard, but also what about when Amy tells us to take our little internet feet to go read someone’s poem & what about when Chen posts a picture of himself in a beautiful neon bright gloral button-down
We are all women in our pink pussy hats, as if pink,
as if pussy, were payment enough, in tender.
We allow the chemical death rain
for this insect-free world—
Nature has introduced great variety
into the landscape, but man
has displayed a passion for
simplifying it.
I have been reduced to work as a hit-person and hiding under beds
for shock value, both of which distress me. I infinitely prefer
to eat people who moan with delight
as I swallow.
this disease you speak of made a skeleton out of junior seau’s
shoulder pads to teach boys to not hit so damn hard; this
facebook post should assure you we’ll look into it.
i cannot stop thinking about the children as they ask for their parents in a way so raw and searching that it frames the love i have for my own children as something like a funeral avoided a funeral held without bodies
& i was born
with water
& i have given that
water to my children
& told them
to give it away
I get to be the one that holds
her fire! How tender
of her to choose me
from the crashing to burn
just enough for her to lead
our children to safety.
The color of my skin
The deliverance of my words
Dare to desecrate the holy silence.
The universe blessed me with two gifts
That for years felt like curses.
I relax my gaze
& I see Emily
as a red egg, paused
on the impossible tip
of love.
My mom said Jim Henson did Dark Crystal and they were all like
it was too dark, so he lightened up, and did Muppets.
My counselor read the poem and said it was the other way around.
so now that they are mangled and losing their juice to the bottom of the thin green bag i struggled so mightily to remove from the dispenser we are still going to cup their mangled flesh in our hands we are still going to eat them
foolish child,
america sips her wine
some destroyers capsize
out of vanity.
And then, no drink.
Or too many. Giddyap! Now, the crown molding of the place
looks doable, needs a bit of work to be relatable. The desert
will always be inchoate. We may never go. I forget