I started writing yet another reflective essay about how I'm not writing the way I wish I were writing. I decided a free verse poem would be more compact -- thus, this column of thought.
The ember in my core seeded my body, as if blue flames reached like trees from the stubble along my neck, spinal ridges, the crests of my shoulders. I am a land of fire, again relishing the sensation of burning as I stare into backyard flames -- flashing orange in the company of friends. I… Continue reading The Fires of June
Like a swarm of jellyfish afloat in a swell,
an uncountable glut of balloons offer
trailing threads of many colors and
If I grab the blue string, will I need
to gather every thread of that hue
to succeed at blues? Or must I
make bundles of rainbow colors, yet
miss the bulbs of indigo I cannot see?
The Pith Re-emerges Winter's tentacles remained on my mind and held me under at my ebb-tide. Time, weeks more, froze in suspense by anti-virtues wrought from the wrong drugs given with good intentions. The summer-self emerges like cactus fronds breaking the brittle soil. The scorching and freezing is over, the pith has survived to emerge,… Continue reading Grabbing a Greased Crocodile
first draft "A Discount Muffin" is the poem I eat tonight. I am ravenous to find nourishment with meaning and its empty calories (so-called?) are filling a visceral space. The mental debt owed to me is the coffer I constructed, empty, to fill for myself from my self, extorting my self in proficient, endless anachronisms.… Continue reading A Discount Muffin
I wept Sunday. Cradling an iPhone in my lap, earbuds like IV-lines between my father and me, I sat on the floorboards of my friends' attic, near the brightly-lit hole leading to my room, and finally found my fountain. Bizarrely, I had not wept at all during this entire painful period and I was aware.… Continue reading Cactus Adonis
Laura on the Lake She is happy, now, in my dream by the lake. I see her cascading chocolate hair and citrine eyes set deeply in grinning cheeks, soft cheeks I don’t quite kiss. I don’t quite embrace her; she plays in the shallows with my Aunt’s granddaughters— who did not exist, then— near what… Continue reading Laura Returns Again