she stood lazily in the shower, watching the drain grow fat with the leftover dreams that come off her like dead skin. she and her friends will go out tomorrow, and make castles out of shotglasses and then knock them over. when she was younger she walked through fields in a red raincoat amazed… Continue reading poem: midnight in the dream city
Tag: orginal poetry
poem: africa
men left africa. i left them, too. i went back to the caravan cart and sat with my white feet under the tarp, and watched them stream out of the savannah, a great dark comet rolling his way across the motherland. i left them, and i stayed on the continent. i stayed alone, but i… Continue reading poem: africa
poem: woman alone
she is standing at the door, waiting. there is snow powdering down and filling his bootprints; it has been a long time. she puts her hands against her thighs, under her skirts. she watches the silent great sway of the earth. the sun is a single yellow breast, pressed hot against the sky. she puts… Continue reading poem: woman alone
poem: what is not (lost & found)
I am looking for him everywhere but he is not even in my dreams he is scattered over the snow in kicked-up footprints he is the smudges on the windows when I breathe against the glass, watching my loneliness fog into my fingertips, watching him always not appear. little girl (asked in broken english) why… Continue reading poem: what is not (lost & found)
poem: gods at small tables
she walked past him in a red coat. he was sitting in the hazing that comes in the dawn. his back to the window and the world and his soul in his typing fingers, the innocence in him always stark and fresh. his leg stretched out just so, his headphones taped over his ears, and… Continue reading poem: gods at small tables
poem: coming awake after dreams
I am nursing a headache imagining that of my five fingers, the one with the blue nail, with the edges dyed blue, the nicks painted with flowers, its color making it a foreigner to the other four. Imagining that this one is happy that this one is all at piece with being strange and being… Continue reading poem: coming awake after dreams
poem: romantics, on the subject of race.
the black boys stand at the edge of the plantation, bleeding nervously into their palms and their psalms. there is a dreadful sweep of fate around them there is something righteous, holiness salted in the plain cloth and the pink inner smiles. the girl, watching, from the shade of rome says how wonderful it looks… Continue reading poem: romantics, on the subject of race.
poem: and here’s why
i believe in the purity of first kisses of a boy, very carefully, tucking a girl's hair behind her ears, whispering all the sorts of things that make for blushes and the girl, blossoming, her smile all untouched all left in safeguard for the boy's wondering eyes. so, no i won't go to the party… Continue reading poem: and here’s why
poem: college (essay at midnight)
essay at midnight and she is frothing with all the wrong things the economics boy kissing inside her inside his computer script and also him kissing his girlfriend. the cold coffee, just one-fifty more calories with crumbs wet at the bottom. the ripe, nice words falling into her tired hands. english major: that's a nice… Continue reading poem: college (essay at midnight)
poem: picture of someone else, told like this
did you look in the portrait today? she shudders and pulls away she said (bitterly/violently/desperately) NO she said i am damned to hell and back she said it comes out in the books like blood from a knife; disconnected, but members of the same party, all the same. did you go out tonight or… Continue reading poem: picture of someone else, told like this
the last pavilion 