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  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    Maybe this is where I’ve found myself the last couple of years, sitting here with one half of a cigarette to my name, and no gas in my car. Empty wallet, empty hands. You always find a way to wiggle free. I was driving down the highway yesterday when I found myself wedged between two coal trucks...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    I stood out under a half lit moon, and burned my hair, and all that went with the past. My veins couldn’t find a place to sit still, and even now a part of me is chattering. I watched the flames curl around everything that I had once let my own body curl around. My beauty, my security, and my sa...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    A buzzing, whirring noise The streetlamps sound like indoor florescent lights, making the purple sky sunshine yellow again I sit locked out, with no one to talk to; no feet to pick me up and run A distant sound of birds, like the window has been left open And the sky hangs like an illusion on th...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    There lay a cigarette graveyard in the dash Gas chugged through to the exhaust Smoke in and out of lungs digging fewer graves While I pester the plastic like uneasy dirt that won't budge Brown worn leather loafers clogged up to some means Then parted like a big brown crinkled sea Imagined wor...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    I hear you fighting with the wall again, dreams like fleas bouncing just out of your grasp before you can finger and thumb them down dead. This is me, in the car, freezing wind blowing through the window, cigar after cigarette in and out of my child like asthmatic lungs, a can of diet coke, ...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    One of 10 tabs open on my browser Standing there, with a blue stripped hula hoop, spinning it with more talent than the blackest of spiders Hair cut by the neighborhood barber, lollipop afterwards, tears dry afterwards Smiling, knowing there are popsicles in the freezer, and moms making her favor...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    The wind is whispering to me though breeze after breeze leaving me with mist in both ears, and blushed cheeks of flaming maroon I came out for this and she doesn’t let me down. She paints me the prettiest spinouts, light lamping the sky with moon kisses. I stomp my feet down the sidewalk,...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    spinney circles are where you turn when you’re lost in a world without walls. you turn them, and turn them lost in sound like a loose blanket draped over your head, white with stains, crowned. crawling on knees and hands looking for a way out you spin and spin. like the flea at the bottom ...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    How is it I can be so disconnected from myself but still be swept under in a wave of nostalgia? I don’t have feet to stand on, to be taken from under me, or legs to bend and crumble under the weight. I don’t have hands to rise in alarm, or a face to scrape. I don’t have anything be...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    There, the biggest snake, in the smallest cage, in the smallest room, and in the smallest house and there lived me, too. Three hundred sets, yellow coils sat in my crushed lap, and they played with my hair like three hundred hands covered, in scales, and ripples of light like hair standing on end...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    Roll up your sleeves, instead of ripping the skin off from your arms. I thought I was doing both, but my sweater still lingers on my wrist, and the muscles are showing underneath the hem. I freeze in the night without my skin, but I push it anyways, to show you the muscles and how they twitch jus...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    A bottle with a cork wedged into it's opening, that's what you were. Closed as tight as the lip of the lid could close, bent. And you with your sealed vault, mocking as it may be, it took me up, a liquid forming to whatever shape it loosely could. And you put the flame ...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    The journey has stretched my arms and legs in different directions, until joints that were never meant to bend backwards, have rubbed, touched each other with ease. The air vents are plugged, but my pores... they pour out. Like tears, they run down my snout. And my bones are poking through my f...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    I can write with the two eyes in the sockets of your face. Brown, be proud take the green masks off. Pour the stars you house out in liquid love so I know your there, that you can see me too. I can write with the skin on your arms, down your hands, gloved to your delicate little fingertips. I tak...
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    Photo > Photographs
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    Photo > Photographs
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    Photo > Photographs
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  • Art /
    Photo > Charcoals
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