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Joined March 2010
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To Be Seen By The Moon
the white warmth of / a thick thrill suspended / the long fingers she must have
Thing Moves.
Nothing moves like you think it will. Nothing / Besides your mind, will understand the tracks / You painted for it. A swallow is going to d…
Dance With More and Write Only
Write a poem that no one will read and / try really hard to make the line lengths / match even if you have to break the wo / rds in half, e…
She used to pick wild
She used to pick wild / wild flowers and take them / on a walk with her in the / morning.
The Bedded Sloth Queen
baring all the legs breasts / all the skin she has / She becomes part of her throne
Just A Few Infinities
Tomorrow morning as I carve / spirals into the bottom of my cereal bowl
Like Commas, Curled
You said you wished you could see what it looked / Like when I blink. I said no one notices / When they blink. But I should’ve stopped at /…
If words spoke for themselves
This sentence is in love with the next one.
Eyes, Buried
If my eyes are jewels / Then yours are the sharp double ends / Of a pickaxe
Inside Out Metamorphosis
My antenna twitch / Towards you miles away, hell / I’m the butterfly.
Octopi Occupy
How an octopus moves / Is how I imagine / The coming together of us.
You Laugh at Poems
oozing warm and snuggled / from my curved lips / they flutter
To hell with butterflies
To hell with butterflies / your voice is a pigpen riot
This Poem Is Postmodern
An extraction would be exclusion.
All of a Sunk In
A girl sat knee to chin / And shore to shore / Letting the bedtime sun
the night is starburnt and whimsycut
with pitterpattern fingers / & thunderstiken eyes
Advice to a Sad Stranger
Seek out a strange Future / And create a beautiful Now / Don’t be afraid to look back / Because / There’s nothing wrong with / wondering, …
Anti-Gravity Laughter
And on the moon / we would kiss / in a way that celebrated beauty
Sometimes We Forget
There’s a girl taking a picture of the boy she’s in love with. A climber 15 minutes from the top of a mountain.
Silence Is.
Silence is eraser shavings. / It is the space in-between a smile and a goodbye. A word and the page it is no longer on.
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