She plays with the stars, a god on a pedestal, a sparrow seed. I trace her lines, colored pencils— Paint outside the lines with yellow, Watercolors bleed the canvass to smears, The Bearer collides the sky, sobriquet names written in turquoise. Saturn's rings are her dress, perched high on her hips, A black spot above …
Category: It’s Poetry My Dude
Bourbon or Whiskey
Feeling friskyTo the disco ceilings, platform tiles,sweat, tangy pits and peachy pilescologne, lipstick, a couple of vialsTouch me moretick-tack--Let hips sway!hippity-hop--tapping toeslight the way, for the paint and pipe,needles, veins, needless brainsHave some Booker Bourbongather 'round, slide a chairslap, spank, lick the grass (be sure to share)spin, splash, stash, and swingsling that slang the cool …
Wake from my life of fantasy
All it took was one step towards the door, and the blood dripped-- Wet. The second step creaked the floor boards, raised the dead-- Skin. Closer and closer, the tiny, murky hands splintered the wood, The cries, the snaps, the burning. Each son and daughter taken by the dark-- Black. The third step was the …
La Petite Mort
Can you hear the knocking in the wall? It's hard to find behind the mirror Gone every step in the hoary room, Lined with marks and yellow tulips. Holes and toys, we hear her. I can find it in the hushed tomb, When the sweltering heat rose through And covers the flowers, crispy curly leaves, …
One Bowl, One Path
When the bowl smashed on the floor Chipping the tile mopped by mom, I went for the door to fly with the birds They tweeted the pain of being free Pushed me back to the ocean, to the dirt. It never got better, it never got cleaner, Only taught me to be better. Learning, fighting …
