For Lindy I’ve written this poem a thousand times in my head Before I ever put pen to paper. You see, there’s a part of me that’s not–not a lot– Just some flotsam discarded on a road long unguarded. I left Lindy by the wayside before I turned 25, And although I tried, I couldn’t […]
I was a twang in the twist of your tongue, But bittersweet stole my butterscotch from your lips And left you panting, Afraid, and wanting more. You were shores of silence breaking through my colossal waves, And your oarsmen got lost in my loamy sea, Held seashells to their ears trying in vain to call
Today, I decided to stop Duct taping my sides together. Holding guts inside Became too painful. First, my lungs expanded Air rushed sweet into New distance My ribs no longer bound breath So when you gently touched hair Straying across my face, the wind did not stop, Continued filling my chest Blessing each breath Second,
I just want to be a poem, To let my motions move you to speak, So you say my name in A thousand different ways, each word A drop of rain captured on pen tip In a spiral notebook I want my eyes to see you As you speak my language written In silver letters
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I’m pheening for words Wringing shaking hands Touching tapping fingers to glands Wondering if I’m getting sick Needing the fix Worse than nicotine Worse than anything I’ve ever dreamed I am an addict Addicted to poetry Seriously It’s better at disseminating pain Than a couple of oxy’s Poetry gets deep Excises emotional puss
The infinite is no longer Than a slice of sky that slipped, Stealthy, behind the apple of your eye. The universe gifted me with insignificance, And no matter how grateful she made me, I still wanted to peer into your navel. When wind slaps wet palms against pages And tempos twist tear drops, triptychs, and