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  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    I thought it was a mistake and that I was going to get to school and she would laugh at me and my running make-up and tell me that nothing would ever happen to her and that she couldn’t believe that I had thought that and then she would do a somersault and say something funny and everything would ...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    I would have been greeted with laughter, condolences; sympathetic somersaults. Still, she wasn’t gone until the pedestrian coiled church. Inside, the stairs were slow. Molly’s hand was a grenade. I saw the face surrounded by flowers. And it was real. And the tears leake...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    if she had been my mentor now i think google translate was as good on my latin homework as if i am going to say yes if you ask me on facebook is not your diary is derived from where are you coming because i want to go to san fransisco this summer it was very hot in that oven and what other ways can ...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    Drowned in a river. Ballerinas plan to wear couture at upcoming gala. A celebration of life will be held. Instagram holds many photos of Sandy. Left behind are a wife and a daughter. The Giants win against the odds....
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    An inept wedding ring coiled around his finger. A guilt trip. Stings like Fourth of July morning or a day filled with candy apples. Annual; ordinary, but quick to jump on the escalator....
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    She told me that if I lie on my back and I close my eyes and I just breath. And I just lie there, letting my body sink into the floor. If I just feel it heavy. Feel those places where my body rejects the floor; between my heel and my calf, the curvature at the bottom of my spine and wher...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    She’s dead. Shot and killed. And now she is dead. A drive-by. Apparently. He told me. He didn’t realize I knew her. Loved her. Admired her. Just said it. So casual. Thought I should know. No big deal. And by the way, wear a raincoat. I think there might be a downpour. Bye! ...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    Study my profile. The mirror, white framed b****, is disappointed in me. I ate too much for dinner last night and now my stomach, bloated, punishes me. I’ll eat less. Promise. But, sucking in won’t make me beautiful today. I’ll pull out the bulky orange sweater ancient Gran...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    Lacy, webbed: lattice of ideas, concepts, terminology, words; connected. Not quite. A departure Of interlocked, Intertwined… COFFEE?... Et Latin roots. Illiterate to transcontinental. Bye now. Time to examine my psychotic beliefs....
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    Bathroom poster. “Jerez Fiestas de Primavera.” Commemoration of a 2003 business trip. Toilet reading odd Spanish words at age five. Prideful mispronunciations and awed studies of a sexy Spanish lady with too much make-up. But when I noticed it, and really saw it, today f...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    It’s not the jealously—minimal, The loneliness—only inside, The suspicion at every turned head, Every raised eyebrow. It is the pain accumulated as This day continues That make my Metamorphoses happen. The presumed betrayals and little words Conspire until I want to curl into a ...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    Feathers Spilled across the cement, Blowing in the wind. And the blood— Bright as the distant sun. Useless heartbeats Flutter, Uneven… Faint. Eggs, Speckled and shattered, Robin’s blues. Stray leg. Silver Civic: Continues on....
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    White foam at its edges it makes the children run to their weary parents, frightened eyes reaching out, arms grasp— protection. It goes past the dog whose gentle paws make carvings in its aftermath, collar’s bell tinkling with each leap. Thrown from buckets the color of the...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    we sew our slippers as we sit in perfect splits, perfectly poised toes. i feel the music-- like a white rose feels the wind, it is meant to be. i am a tool for the director, just one more sculpture to place. a pirouette to arabesque-- i lose passé well, a good day. music in me, he hold...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    Little ballet girl, Does point and flex exercise well. Teacher approves. Her little feet In her mini- Size kids ten- One soled slippers Have a tint of elegance And beauty. She is six. Little ballet girl, Does a port de bras. Perfect. Applause. Third recital, Third audience, Third tu...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    Her eyes thick with loving sorrow, her strength does not prevail. An upcoming apology rests on the tip of her tongue, yet her narrow lips don’t have the obedience to open. Her hair rests upon her shoulders, a veil of an obscure shade. Lips constrained tightly— creases born— she...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    The sunset glistened indigo-blue, The sky was ocean water, murky grime, The moon was a silver sliver of coral between. He lifted his eyelids, and blue They glimmered, slick like a fragment of time For the last time, now for the last time seen....
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    each scrape across the paper, each push against the pull. the sound, full of recognition to my ears, I know it better than any other. it is the sound of a mind manumitted from another’s control. it is the sound that bring the words, the words that brush away the cold....
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    The homeless man Awaits the kind, frail girl Who always wears the same Button- down plaid Dress. She gives him a few dollars, Says “Good morning!” Coffee in hand, little does she know— She has made his day. He sits on the same bench, Near the newsstand, West 25th street. People p...
  • Poetry > Haiku
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    A silent city-- Pristine windows in a glass And pane overture....
  • Poetry > Sonnet
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    I am in love with your blonde hair that droops by your neck, a dove could hide in there, never be seen, but I would still notice your smallest alteration, your sent like a lotus-- fills me with wonder, like a star on a dreary night-- what surprises do you bring in asunder to my poignant d...
  • Poetry > Sonnet
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    Her face bore the silent waves of ore and grave stones, its crevices of smashed grits and excess bone marrow are as humble as a hunter’s arrow. Thus, her smile—a crumble— detains its own image, my flawed scrimmage....
  • Poetry > Sonnet
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    Their sacks pile high their backs ache from the pressure no longer spry, longing for a refresher, hats upon tossed hair brunette curls see despair, though no pearls I see the beauty inside, flowing underneath the sooty hide. Jewish noses, soon to smell new-world roses....
  • Poetry > All Poetry
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    You can’t even Imagine, The things that My mind comes up With, Each night When I am tucked away In bed. Under Blankets that pile high Enough to touch The shallow ceiling Above my bed. Worlds others Will never see. Swamps That go up to your chin, And are as dark as The ...
  • Poetry > All Poetry
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    You are an outcast. Outcasts are Free. They don't have the Urgent need to impress or detest To fit another's liking. Supposedly. They are their own being, within Their own self. They have a life unharmed, polished, Cleaned with Shoe shine, Toothpaste, Window cleanser, and the lik...

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