What I don’t know how to describe is the pain,
the brutality of saying no,
the agony of walking away,
prying my own hand, and making him go.
Tag: writing
gives birth to baby in bombed kyiv metro station
When you came to be inside me,
our bodies decided we would survive,
and we chose a supporting role in all their mysteries
when survival meant nurture and shelter.
Charlie
Charlie, ever pleasant as
a glowing fireplace
offered friendship to the world,
with beauty on his face.Read More »
Our Old Getaway
The heart building… … …All the good, true,
right, and real … locked inside-
I will cherish it,
wear it
like
a
locket,
open it up
and smell,
inhale
deep,
cry myself to sleep,
and smile
one of the genuine smiles
as each of the surround miles
Read More »
Child of the Open Air
Grabbing my toes,
I pull my butt out from beneath me,
flip me upside down,
and shake.
I plop her back on her butt and smack
her back and wait
and wait and wait
for her to burp, spit or vomit,
or to drop from any pocket
identity
not quite a train wreck
but a train that keeps starting and stopping
going the wrong way on the track
and isn’t it sad?
trying not to have an adjective
the hoe and the manwhore
My lies loved yours.
Our scars and alter egos danced,
and your ghost rolled over, straddling mine.
I found a shield in a linguistic sword;Read More »
What a Poem Means
A world demanding meaning alternates between cynicism and starry eyes.
See, all a detail must do
is matter to be written down.
And all a detail must do to matter
is to occur,
The Spot
two hands
to hold or to have
with the trees as our witness,
ask,
for the sparrows that record our song
Read More »
The Captain
He’s thin as a rail with this equally thin
yet deceptively puffy, oversized jacket-
navy, that
he never removes.
He’s also got a farmer’s hat
with secret script written round the rim.
He never removes this,
save for in prayer.
He claims that he’s an alien.
Alphabet Ravine 