(for Emily Forand and the W119 Faculty and Staff) I envy you. Stamped with the names of all those exciting places. Turned on your side, you look like a squishy old-time Pullman porter’s trunk. Amsterdam London Paris Munich How did you end up here scrubbing dishes in the faculty lounge? No enticing aroma of French […]
International Sponge Read More »
I’m so thankful for dryer sheets, For midnight sleets that keep me Inside when I’d rather be under the stars Puffing a Marlboro. I make late night calls to Mom, When she or I finally become so tired We begin slurring our slurs, And, listening, my father says, “It sure ain’t no game for Simple
Butterflies dive bomb my windshield in fall Like they know the end is coming And don’t want to die, Wings frozen in mid-beat. Instead, they want the heat And final crash Into an invisible barrier That just hinted sunflare. I agree with butterflies. Life is a hurricane whirlwind Grinding my mind into mincemeat And I
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The petals on the water drifted away with the message revealed in the depths of madness, a missing presence ruined by entitled indifference.
Of Ladies Most Deject and Wretched Read More »
It’s all a collective memory shaped by a planet of dreamers living inside themselves, waiting for release.
waiting for release Read More »
The voices write the words that spread across the page. They say what they want, when they want. I mostly just edit. Sometimes, the voices chatter like monkeys. Every so often, they whisper intimate lies. At times, they explain mystery through symbol. I never know what to expect. The written words urge me to rethink