She had camera lenses tattooed on her palms ( Read more... )

You have skin like a coloring book

Peacock feathers tipped in ink

Drawing lines across columns of faces

Floating paper roses in twisted rain gutters

Like children

Dissolve into nothing

And everything

Riding in sidecars

Through fields of lavender

And deserts of red rock and mirages

Heads buried in the sand

Speaking in whispers that brittle bones

And ( Read more... )

I promise you words,
When all my conclusions seem empty.
I have so many convictions
And no means to convey them.
How do you write when
Language is just a symbol,
Hovering on the edge of indecision?
I stare at a vacant page with
"Words for You" scrawled across the pinnacle
And that's all
Because I can't think of words
That have meaning.
Because my words don't ( Read more... )

Cappuccino sunrise
Calypso
And hips swing
While sundresses cling to sweaty
Sun beaten skin
And I live at the end of a seven hundred mile highway
In a bed of oranges and red
Up all night writing letters in the sand
Washed away with a wave
Or the sweep of a hand

Drink yourself to death with words in a bottle
Wild, ordinary minds think like art and make me
Wish ( Read more... )

I think that I wrote to you
In the back of my mind
On parchment curled in the
Crevices of the occipital lobe
Once I heard the sound of a subway
Breaking. All the way from Boston
I thought I died seven years back
Because the light changed
Shattered Reflections on glass
In the bottom of my feet
Spoken word
Words speak into me…Maybe
I scream
Rippling sound waves
In ( Read more... )

He was in an unthinking frenzy and danced around on

My mind, that island of brilliance in an ocean of night
In ancient rot made my stomach turn and I tiptoed quickly
And one passed the word to another, and that was the way
Thunked against my head and blackness came up
With a roar. And emptied in a pile on the rug.
I grabbed one of her hands between both ( Read more... )

I'll write to you in the footprints my mocassins leave in the soft earth without a sound, without a direction, just movement.
Last night I had the strangest dream
I slept long and well and knew that
I had nothing
I became everything I never wanted
I woke up and I was everything
My words came out slow and odd

Poetry swings trapeze on my wrought-iron ( Read more... )

Feel Something. Feel Something. Feel Something.
I screamed at myself.
Told myself that I
That I
That I no longer feel the motions
Swaying underneath me
Told Myself that I
That I
That I no longer taste colors
But I'm a liar to myself.
I feel motion crippling
Color aching up my body

Zipper-riding in the backseat
of a two-door-top-down
That kind of pretty
get a ( Read more... )

I dream in the dripping of candle wax
Hipbones pressing into shadows
Contemplating light
Tracing my ribs
With a paintbrush
Meant for something else
Fingertips hover over
Delicate skin
Half-expecting feathers           
I dream in marigolds
And heartbeats
To capture days

And have them smolder across your back
Fingers that would have held the world
Seem to linger on skin that might have followed
Holding out palms, face up
As tears run in streams along the creases
Cradled in a suitcase packed with Polaroids
I see contrived diffidence
Of a child who needs to be
Anything
More than she has come to see the world as
And she ( Read more... )