a donut had fallen in a rush to breakfast its sticky footprint darkening and travelling through every room, the cough following it
In a burned out city that whispered from its ashes willful forgetting would only salt that richness; turn the fertilizing of it to Death.
Ballad of Bridges Each one was familiar yet its peril new and desperate over water not deep enough to account for believing more in visions of mangle and gore only visions, after all, amalgamating into fear. The subconscious is always painting its face in Imagination and Doubt. So if I've crossed bridges before in the sullenness of day's brooding; wearing the [...]
before I could swallow, choke, introduce Your cancer into my feet or feelings I found it.
I’ll give you ears, proper timbre and tonality; my full weight against your arm until it’s limp and damp, pocked in a rash the shape of my locs
A woman's worth is not in her vagina. A woman is worth more than her vagina. A vagina and a womb are not synonymous. A woman owns her vagina and her womb and only she decides whether these statements are true. For her. A man's worth is not in his penis. A man is worth [...]
I'm way behind on my National Poetry Month 30 in 30 poetry writing challenge. But here's 2 of 30.
pressed to my chest by a bra made for movement; still.
fellowship/publication submissions: 0 fellowship/publication acceptances: 0 fellowship/publication rejections: 3 books: __________________ Secret Shame: My fingernails which have resisted Nailtique, multivitamins, and nightly hypnosis. I'm really considering biting them again so I'll have an excuse for their appearance. And my Napowrimo stats. Mantra of the Moment: ...but I can write a mean sentence you faster runner, better [...]
There's more to this poem; I already know this. I've sat with it for a good week. It's tired of my company right now, so we're gonna get together again soon. In the meantime (and because I wanted to get as close to 30 poems in this challenge as possible)... We’re 11 year old girls [...]