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He bites Where there is no meat Only bone And sweat And fat That sucks a voice Into it Saying There is a rock That does not roll For there is no hill Just land that flattens All into a square Then a line Then a dot So small That it can’t have said to be … Continue reading
A blue sky Is beautiful Even with a Lonesome, Starved cloud Biting into it. * They found life on another planet, It might one day be said, And the first question That will need to be answered Is whether that life Is as lonely as us, Beings who are Searching for Someone else, Something else … Continue reading
Near the end of his life, Robert Frost reportedly said, “In three words I can sum up everything I have learned about life: it goes on.” I am not near the end of my life, as far as I know, nor am I a celebrated poet, but I have tried to sum all I know too. … Continue reading
Hell is not hell It is purgatory With endless breathlessness Where you walk but do not move Where you speak but do not echo Where you are you but not A mist mistaken for rain A clock counting down to what end A question without an answer
This is the first form of real, purposeful action I’ve finagled in a while. I could’ve thought before I did it, I think. * It is only a thought, But if you think That it is too much To think About thinking Then you have not thought Enough About thinking Enough To think That thinking Enough … Continue reading
She ripped my tongue out The moment I spoke And hung it On a string Thin as dental floss In between alphabetic breasts Whose white lips Mouthed the letter Y, Which was, after all, The only word I could say While she walked away With my voice.
Everything is possible under the sun If you just bend and bow And sway under a disco ball That is stuck and heavy in the sky Just like the dancers beneath it Who step on concrete In hopes of becoming as Solid and complete But who often forget that there are cracks Caused by the same baking … Continue reading
She smiles The birds matching The arch Of her lips With their wings And I’m lifted If only for a little while Until the birds squawk Louder than her words Which say something something About something something else, Though I’m sure the sentences Vibrate into the sky Tickling the webbed feet above Like feathers on … Continue reading
Everyone dies in the summer When the sun doesn’t set. It just sits in the sky Like a scar that won’t heal But instead only gushes Hot, infected, Blood Over everything. It is murder in broad daylight.
There is a poem about unhappiness That is written so beautifully That the author who penned it Knew she would never scrawl Something like it ever again And so she got up, Put a gun into her mouth, And clicked Only to find that she had Picked up a water gun instead That shot a … Continue reading
Mizpellt wurdz 