archives

Miscellaneous mistakes

This category contains 82 posts

they never fit anyway

now that i am no longer a poet, i do not see the birds sculpting the sky or the rivers with those long, luscious names or the love that will eclipse the previous loves. rather, dogs poop. i poop. there is poop under my shoe. and scrubbing now, i understand now how someone can easily … Continue reading

what’s good

this be that good but not that good that it is great but not that bad that it is terrible but just good enough like a drive away from the city, though there’ll be traffic, or like a seeing a flower spring from the ground, though it is still too cold, or like you liking … Continue reading

florero

i am a still life. i am a potted flower desperately bending to any sunlight, including your own. i am the water that dies through breath. i am the breathing, bold discussion on how art is useless but so are we. i am we trying to not try to spend the day in bed. i … Continue reading

webbed fingers

to feel your weight, to kiss you in every lovely place, to watch your gentle grace, to listen to you saying i compliment you too much, to compliment your voice as you say, to sit in silence, relaxed, stretched as sunlight, as flowers flowing, as straight when morning cuts in golden and generous mumbling, please, … Continue reading

a catalogue

cy is short for cyan, which is supposed to sound like sigh, and i do. her name was meant to be hissyphus. a parody of the gods, i got her to give meaning to the mythos of grey, to move the rocks i did not know how to. she doesn’t roll. she sits on my … Continue reading

like the dead

i think i am supposed to think less, because you told me when it is over it is over, and i asked what is there? what is after the edge? how is it that at the end of some ends, there is a crack, a light? you told me it was gobbledygook, another reason why … Continue reading

catfish

wrapped in your arms, why can’t i feel you? maybe because it was in the sweat of summer when i first saw ice. it stood solid on a table, indifferent, cooling a fish that was long passed the hope of water. the air was thick with smoke, with the thoughts of how it will always … Continue reading

colour dye

what is this useless bleeding? love is my wound, so it can’t be so bad right. you said this was wrong, that i promised never to write the break up poem, that this must be composed and decomposed in broken parts, that it is written in a language i don’t know how to speak yet, … Continue reading

brunch

how can it be morning when tonight is yet to be written? you’re there where the space of last night grows soft and still drifts. the waves whispered that i should do this, i can do this, i have not done this like the many things, will i pet that dog, need i pet a … Continue reading

dinner

tell me about you. i have made a lot of mistakes but i am still perfect. i work a little, am paid a little less, i am worth millions. not dollars, memories, moments where you tell someone else they are not that other person, where there is enough drink and no hangover. where there is … Continue reading