The bus seems like a perfect exit
to a girl, seventeen, with a dammed-up chest.
Years ago, the concrete poured,
the walls maneuvered into place while the contractors
cast over her face with stone: straighten up. You’ve got
nothing to cry about. Meanwhile,
her glass shatter heart had lain in magnificent crystalline pieces
just behind the giant, cold, gray barrier. Soundproof. No one outside
had heard the shivering while the workmen
took their spare tools to the lucent structure; no one outside
even knew the thing had been made out of glass
to begin with. Continue reading →
Silver dash. A flickering, unforked tongue
seeking its end somewhere under my skin,
gliding easily between the borders of cells. A little refugee
pulls thread behind her, like driving pickup trucks
full of the brown and bruised sliding unseen
into country somewhere south of El Paso. The thread
is black, cheap, and worsted under twilight,
a broken-edged creation wrought in blindness. Continue reading →
When the stars bleed through pinholes
like a heroin serenade walking up the tracks
of an earthquake arm where veins are fault lines
and bruises are epicenters where footfalls land; Continue reading →
This is one of two poems written for Read Write Poem #91: The Self As Memory, Or Vice Versa. This prompt was courtesy of guest celebrity poet Joseph O. Legaspi and invited us to, using two of his photographs and memories we want to either remember or forget, freewrite and compose two poems. This poem was the “what I want to forget” category. Our family moved frequently when I was growing up, for reasons that I have yet to completely understand; I wrote this poem using some descriptive phrases from picture #1 and incorporated an animal — the spider.
Life is crucifying me tonight.
That motherfucker has pinned me to the wall
and has strapped a highway belt
across my stomach. It knows why: I could count
the dots in my skin, and they look like Continue reading →
I wrote this for Read Write Poem Prompt #88: Fresh From the Wordle bank (which was an interesting birthday gift of sorts from RWP and the Universe, I think). I got a bit of inspiration this morning and worked some of the words into this piece. I think Kinnell has left his stamp on me and this poem is about — guess what — nightmares again. So for your enjoyment, fresh off the pen, is this yet-to-be-titled piece. Enjoy.
The breeze blows through the
window, billows the curtains, flies those
gentle blue flags on worn steel rods, and then blows
down the coastline of your back. Somewhere,
a river comes undone
and hurls itself to Earth in tiny, shattered pieces
beyond our bedroom window. Dreams Continue reading →
I borrowed heavily from concepts in Jungian psychology, Freudian psychology, and Kabbalah to write this — and thus it is a multi-part, somewhat lengthy work. I’ve been troubled by a lack of creative energy lately, so this work was a blessing to me. I hope it touches you in some way.
Oh, and by the way, enjoy.
—————————————— i. psyche
a hollow school room
looking like eighteen and ninety four
everything is wooden
and silent: open-mouthed chairs
wordless desks scrubbed
of paper and language
the snow is falling Continue reading →