can’t I touch?Read More
at the store
and get so angry
as if i'm doing this for them
Then they spider out, skitter and
caress, fingers relaxing,
cupping the cheek like an explosion holds the ground,Read More
Here at the crease between my thighs is the foam of a tsunamiRead More
Like you, all lonely,
Poets not all among them,
Not all, eloquent, not all seeking
Loneliness, what then?Read More
art is as useless as it is magnificent,
ugly and real and hurting like a white flame
- two faces of the same god
one that talks in riddles and lives blindfolded.Read More
“I am trying to stay present, trying not to run head first into the darkness she invited.”Read More
Spilled words from her lips/ like red wine on white carpets. / She left many stains.Read More
a dormant volcano.Read More
real women are polished opals.
i am buried coal.
Zeus’s boys are in a rage.
Advantages not met with advancements
Turn their poetry to slander;
Galatea has turned to stone again.
Give me a face with enough
grace for a Valentine’s date.Read More
But we are too old:
we were too old and too young to flee
countries, to outlive
earthquakes, hurricanes, rape, murder.
You are a thief of my flesh; you split me like plum leaves
too early in the spring. Disrobed of what protects me;
one silver necklace undone, cotton to the floor.
Before you I am bare.
On the few nights
the moon shone brighter than streetlights,
we would climb out our windows
to drink the city air.
Many nights I lie awake,
Remembering the violence
That ferried me into womanhood
Let's be pragmatic: you can't hold on to something that is dissolving in your hands.
red mud bundle where peaceable people retire
and kids end up, end up again