‘where do circles begin?’ an eye for an eye for an eye.goin’ on ‘n on ’bout your missteps. been dust ‘n sweat swirlin’ down that drain,and maybe stare at the stars for a while,Poor,safe-sex-scented,Children,Afterwards she always glowed. it don’t ‘n her lips sparkled,’cause I got this jackhammer heart,I write like I write like I write, …
Tag Archives:
Untitled #609 (2014)
darlin’, I’m lookin’ at you stare into some old lover’s eyes,and I’m bulging at the thought of having you again,but I want, I want you again,as mine.I want to leave bite-marks on your skin, branding you with my name,I want to bend you accross my knee and make you feel my desire.I want to kiss …
Untitled #601 (2014)
Turn on the noise, drown out the drowning.Laugh track’s just a setup away.
Untitled #585 (2014)
The weeping willow’s boughs are swept in the heavy winds,and it’s daylight, no clouds, the wind rustling the grass-blades,picturesque, and yet, and yet. It was a day like this, years and years ago,I took my first kiss to a park in Kansas,and on some old picnic blanket we gloried in the warmth of each other,in …
Untitled #584 (2014)
You could never know the times I’ve wished I’d never left,but I’m trying, trying to get better ‘bout this lookin’ back. What’s done is done is done,there are no battles to be won.
Untitled #58 (2015)
I could have gone to parties,I sta(ye)id home to write poetry to no one.But that’s the a-okay in today,‘cause my stories,my stories are on. Yeah, for all the all in the all that, spilt milk’s more of a sob than a cry anyhow, and the dead-eye aim my anxieties have, seems best broken by blatant …
Untitled #578 (2014)
Synapses fire with a war-for-cheap chatter,that self-same discharge that plasma chars air to vacuum.and those fires keep rising,and them flood waters are rising,but you, you’re ether bound, and damn if that sound don’t just R E SOUND.‘course, me, I’ve got …
Untitled #575 (2014)
Sitting on my back stairs,highway 74 mounts its Mississippi overpass,watching folks join the highway headed home. I’ve just pushed send on something that could be nothing,and could be everything,and I find myself watching folks headed home.
Untitled #572 (2014)
And Faulkner did like his whiskey,and it ain’t comparison, but I do too.Humid swelt afters. and more clever roots that seem archaeic now.The warmth and the sweat reminds me of those pleasant afternoons,Eleanor wrapped inside me. Blue-jeans, t-shirts, thrift-shop long-sleeves,don’t have much use for delicates,on me, in me, in anything. And …
Untitled #574 (2014)
Never been on a greyhound,but a man who accused me of rape has, and in San Francisco I sat next to my mother who eyed the homeless man in the corner, as we rode to the coast, looking for bridges and chocolate, I dreamt we rode to ghost towns filled with …
