The echoes of rejoicing muted by the island’s sands. Drowned by waves of realization that we are sound itself reverberating off of infinity’s pretzel-ed pipe.
Tag: poetry lovers
Social Security
The castles moved straight,
the horses made hooks
as the black and white shapes met their fate.
Sabbath Mourning
When skunks didn’t remind me of smoking and mint was just for candy. When a quarter was more valuable in my piggy bank than in my pocket.
I am a man
I have a hot temper
I am confident in changing a tire
I tremble when jumping a car battery
I was a lover
The question of my last breath is either sober or whiskey soaked. The continuous monologue in my mind reaches the end of its reel. I am not making sense but its my senses that make me.
Teetering
Maybe I didn’t say hi. Maybe I needed more time. God knows you do.
Where are my teeth?
The tooth fairy took all your teeth but I think she also has your innocence, and you never saw a dime.
Cart, Applied, Pop
Forever
is the theory
of love
applied science need
not apply
Race, Cry, Item
furs blur
cotton tails fly
shells drag
Heads stir
Qualify, Screen, Reaction
Tear down the bricks
Tear up the flix
Tear down the walls
Tear up the dolls
Tear down the malls
Tear of the curtain to see all the tricks.
Sex, Win, Deposit
Adventurous fingers
traversing dunes, peaks and valleys
pushing in territorial flags
Factor, Attic, Fill
Addict’s eyes
compromise
Attic’s rise
Cover, Relation, Hilarious
An empire of
foxtails
dust
rotted fence posts
chipping paint
Grass, Thin, Theft
Love is Molasses
Care is water
The thick and thin
of thieves.
Belief, Obese, Death
Salivating teeth taste smoke.
Souls peep morning skies through dewy windows.
And I write.
And wolves
drip bloody howls
into snow.
Pilot, Hair, Wolf
Follicles salute bloody snouts. Extending past split ends, peering at red snow, hearing howling, growling and snarls.
Rope, Blind, Sword
I stand on my toes and crane my neck, willing my head past the clouds to something else. I never seem to be able to reach it. I’ve stacked crates, books, climbed ladders, but I can never get high enough to see past the monochrome.
Terrify, Characteristic, Throat
I watched her dance and ignored the insatiable appetite of the flames biting into my finger tips. An emptiness hit me, a tunnel opening up inside my chest, terror. Then the flame spit up its victory smoke and I was left with the memory of her dance.
