Tag Archives: poem

Nothing Tastes Like

  One wrong look And you coil A one-off word Rattle… rattle…  Impregnating a moment  In a comatose afternoon Lunge Bite Venom that tastes like nothing  And nothing tastes like forgetting Advertisements

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Fatalphilia

  I see you in rewind, Film reels spinning backwards To a fatal first hello. I pray to my own saints, Patrons of lost causes, That you find peace Somewhere swimming through The iron fillings in your heart. My bones … Continue reading

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Grave-Side

  You, Parasitic lesser beast, Gladly feasting Upon my white, pulsating shoulder A mosquito more daring Sinking into a familiar vein Bleeding out, not bleeding alone. We are ruins of an ancient place, Where history fades, softy rewritten Amended to … Continue reading

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Softer

  He loves me in a softer way, Fuzzy, soundless, wet- Like looking through a window On a rainy September evening. A second chance at romance, It tastes like a relapse Into a hopefulness I stopped Sticking into my veins … Continue reading

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Sunny Side

  I step off the downtown bus In humid, too-hot-for-spring heat. I remember when I first moved To this side of town and Put a bridge between my geography. Here, lines of skateboarders And littered trails by the river, Buildings … Continue reading

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The Night Before

  Each day grows more and more like yesterday A swollen sunshine beating down on us Making me sweat with the anticipation, The hope, That I might finally melt away. Hand in hand, I give each of you a finger … Continue reading

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A Study: The Economics of Dying

  Vegetables don’t feed flowers The way a body will. A legacy of “I Was here, too.” Grown from decay, Wilting again A hand-picked bouquet.

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No New Gods

The machinery of his heart, always at war with his mind- He, who wrestled life away from scraps; those husks of peace left in compost buckets. Off-brand savior, who nails sleep to a cross, Sacrificing restfulness for children who were … Continue reading

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Apotheosis

  I’m a mnemonic device Helping you remember Past, distant love. I dropped my shoes And modesty at the front door; You’d save the best for last, But I still stepped first in line. I emerge from beneath surface tensions … Continue reading

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The Dent Beneath His Eye

    The morning I noticed The little dent Beneath his eyes, I was sunk. Some remnant from childhood, A tree poorly climbed, A baseball bat swung, Not ducking quickly enough, Or a chicken pox wound He couldn’t help but … Continue reading

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