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Umbrella
no, thank you, I would not like your umbrella. I prefer the rain. Filed under: Poetry
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Mosaic
death did a funny thing to you and me. in younger years, you were a friend to a boy who didn’t know he’d forget who he was– the kind of a friend that makes you want to live in something big,...
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Ladybug
I don’t think it’s possible for my eyes to feel any heavier than they do now. And yet, there’s some kind of comfort in knowing the source of strain to be, among other things, a smoked brat on a...
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Chuck
I was not a good poet today, walking carelessly through a day too full for mandatory observation– too full of grass in my toes, hammock flips, no longer distant friends and the familiar tune of each...
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This Poem Does Not Have A Happy Ending
it sounds cliche because it is, but if I could, I’d go back (yes, back in time) and I’d ask the kids of ourselves, what are your dreams? and after a few seconds of needed...
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Easier Said
come on in, really to a time meant to be played with, a drum’s snicker and a trumpet’s cry. we need you, really, and we want you, too. come on out, really, to rims that whisk currents into miles...
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The Body
There’s no grand entrance or entourage; we come as we are not. It’s not like we haven’t explored other options–we tried closing our eyes. But to open instead and gaze upon knowing smirks on wrinkled...
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The day is still vivid, perfectly
preserved in a rustic frame of sawdust and concrete exposed. It was the time when lazy ceiling glances required crooked neck and caving back, a world big enough to leave me small and wondering. A...
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Compost
In this drawer lie countless knick-knacks, a desk-bottom compost of leadless pencils, to-done lists, tear and scratch pads, and a running tab of who has borrowed my books, all hushed away by another...
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John 12
No, really, take it– it’s a gift. I tried to pick out something more “you”. Do you like the colors? Or the way light jumps around inside, playing tricks? Press its curves deeper into your palms, I dare...
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