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  • Poetry > All Poetry
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    If your life were a map, your heart would be Alaska Your head would be Maryland weather in April You always told me you hated the winter I never told you I hate when weather is shifting Your head would be Maryland weather in April I would be your Minnesota, if your life were a map I never t...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    No, I have never known when to walk away. I want you to hit me. I want you to leave me alabaster pale and ink smeared and Tattered (there are some things my father cannot fix) The phlebotomist had trouble finding my veins; they are tangled under corroding sinew. Could you please draw me ...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    Can we be pirates? I want to sail the world And plunder. I will teach you how to pull In the jib and tack against the trade winds No, but you can take the top sheet off our bed And paint a watercolor map to wonder about I want you to teach me how to dance, I Might step on your toes but you...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    This is about Me and my straw-like Mane raving for The buttered sun And also of You—my straw-like Man set blazing in The western sky If we squint Against ourselves Will we impulsively Combust What will we Leave behind in our Smoke and fun House mirrors...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    The allergy tablets in the small Purple pill box have run out But that’s okay; they didn't Really work for me anyways And by the way I wore your Baseball hat on the homecoming You didn't take me too and it felt Just so terribly ironic and also Kind of tragic but I might be ...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    I have this reoccurring dream That the day I get my License I will turn off the GPS and listen to the road And my David Gray CD in The dashboard will propel Me to have no plan, no where To go; just keep moving, so When I see the exit for Northern Virginia, depending On my mood I either...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    With all of our chipped teeth, Cracked and snaggled limbs That twist up and intertwine And our weather-beaten U-boats whose angry facades Can survive a hard winter, yes It feels like 70 years of being One, living under the waves and I Can tell you that I love More now, with all of our ...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    It is a Sunday night, raining, and I am eating oatmeal There is a language to be learned, a list to dominate And I can't hear what's being said upstairs, but I can Make out my mother's butterscotch laughter, my Father's heavy-lidded footsteps, the sound of the Icemaker and the rai...

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