he was a boy with stars in his eyes and the world laid out (carefully) at his feet. he walked too far, too fast. he missed the world and fell into the universe, into the cosmos. he came out— a god. he came out a scared boy with no better legacy than people dropping dead—… Continue reading poem: light yagami
Tag: free verse
poem: twisted
published also in one hand clapping magazine, in altered form if you put my face into wet cementit would not leavedefining marks. my shoes squeak lolita lolita lolita after i visit my father;walking across town makes towninto thin manga lines,the people slipping into hotpencil shapes and his thumbprintskeeping close watchon my ankles, on the young… Continue reading poem: twisted
poem: boy alone, watching a girl
there are lilacs coming up under her skirt— and she stands in shadow on the concrete, fat clouds making dreams behind her. i watch her and imagine: maybe my fingers are touching the raw strands of hair coming loose around her small face, instead of the sun. maybe if we breathed at closer times the… Continue reading poem: boy alone, watching a girl
poem: medieval rhapsody
maids stand legion— we have nothing but the iron on our checks, the sex rimmed over our lips as if we were bowls, made to pour out and be poured into. sir, if you would touch my check and untie the red skirt, I swear I will be true, I will not send letters to… Continue reading poem: medieval rhapsody
poem: there is always a lost generation
she is sitting with her face in the window watching the country blur into Monet and his outcast friends— she is always afraid, if she blinks she will miss the important moment when the universe pauses and catches her breath. the country falls louder and longer when when she picks up culture and tries it,… Continue reading poem: there is always a lost generation
poem: friends
the earth was spinning down into sunset and I put on—welcome to the black parade. you said you knew it maybe, you hummed to the chorus, to the rise and fall of one thousand suicides, one thousand children deciding—not tonight. we are the same people, we are split into different bodies. I could tell you… Continue reading poem: friends
poem: disenchanted
when i last heard this song i was better, i was in hell but i was managing: i would not have stabbed my arm with a fork because i forgot where my knife was kept, i would not have spent the next day staring at the small break in the skin— thinking about nothing, feeling… Continue reading poem: disenchanted
poem: i broke the skin but it didn’t hurt (everything is a disappointment)
she was in her room and the moon was hung capriciously outside and she was sitting on the heater, her legs curled inside herself; she was crying and she wanted to pull her veins out of her too-thin wrists and eat them, letting the wires tangle in her throat—like her emotions used to tangle in… Continue reading poem: i broke the skin but it didn’t hurt (everything is a disappointment)
poem: maniac pixie dream girl
when I was younger I wanted to be the personification of some artist's inner life— i would be the girl with the mask tacked on backwards, the girl over-thinking her image— i would be youth, hope, the red blushes in forests, the red blushes when boys lean in close and say things from books—like this… Continue reading poem: maniac pixie dream girl
poem: the kids from yesterday
we are people waiting in the sunlight, going after stimulus after stimulus after stimulus. we are disenchanted: girls sitting, stitching embroidery into pants— boys making suits from torn-off skins, the flesh still wet and rotting. we are taken from text and retold as myth: a New Generation, all jazzed all pixelated, reliving 2003 like we… Continue reading poem: the kids from yesterday
the last pavilion 