Minuscule heart!Read More »
Tag: creativity
Carrie
I couldn’t tell what Ma was cooking,
nor growing in her flower garden,
but sweet and spicy scents told me
that it was something good.
Neither do I know where Carrie
comes from with extraordinary
aromas exuding from her I would
bottle if I could.
Jern
Jern wanted to see the heart
I’d locked inside a drawer.
I fished in all my pockets but couldn’t
talk to Jern anymore.
Ana-Bri
Ana-Bri,
Brawnasaur,
Brianasaurus rex
Loved me though
all the world
could see was my life’s mess.
Briana, the
open one
let me hold her soul,Read More »
At times, telling the truth requires
At times, telling the truth requires
saying contradictory statements
until you are understood.Read More »
Hopes are heavy.
Hopes are heavy. That’s why we say that we get them up.
And I know that it seems easy,
but adrenaline rises in a rush
to transfer energy and perpetuate movement
when you’re faced with something grand enough
to be worth lifting hopes.Read More »
Crossroads
My crossroads were a metaphor,
because where was I when I realized the road before me forked?
In the reclining chair,
painting the epistemic situation in the distinctive shades
of sand, sun, and tumbleweeds- nothing but dust and wind on either
side as far as eye could see. And how was I to choose between,
and win or lose or even move?
But that’s the thing about crossroads. You never paint their metaphor
if you find sitting still an option.
It would be a third path, and you would plow on. So,
pressure. Tick, tock.
But my crossroads were a metaphor! I finally realized,Read More »
Kings Alight
Place me among the breast of the blue jay when it claps its wings,
that I too may turn concave,
blown back by its power’s rush,Read More »
Amour
She wraps the word up in French,
like a foreign language leaves her
one step removed
from the vulnerable truth-
she has a love in her handsRead More »
On Being an Ideas Person
After a month of nearly falling off the bottom of the earth,
Ma placed me in my bed, where I woke imagining
feeling wide-eyed, refreshed, wondrous of where I was-
jumping off the bed, landing in flexible splat as impossible
as the dogs I used to try to draw were ugly.
I didn’t really know how dogs’ heads or human bodies worked,
but I wanted a Lisa Frank retriever and my butt to be in the air,Read More »
Alphabet Ravine 