Mine
The boy kept grabbing, kept putting his
Hands all over me and saying — one way or
Another: “mine,” and I didn’t have the
Words at first, nor then the steel, then
The will to stop him. I let … Read the rest “Mine”
Writer. Demand Poet.
The boy kept grabbing, kept putting his
Hands all over me and saying — one way or
Another: “mine,” and I didn’t have the
Words at first, nor then the steel, then
The will to stop him. I let … Read the rest “Mine”
I try to try harder. To look under
Heavier rocks and inside murkier
Metaphors. But the grey of morning
Lifted her head and said:Â oh for
Heaven’s sake, sweetie. Stop trying to
Interchange my mountains and
Molehills. Instead … Read the rest “Between the Morning Trees, You’ll Find It”
They’ve got the chairs unfolded and
Planted at the end of the driveway, facing
The world parade, and the children are
Singing say say oh playmate come out
And play with me which Granny taught
Them on our last … Read the rest “The Children Are Singing”
—

It’s all an illusion: to carry a
Coffee full and fret a
Little if it will drop on the white
Rug or if it will scorch your
Tongue. Eventually every cup
Goes cold and empty, just dregs
And those … Read the rest “To Get Things Done”
I had a ticket on the
Carnival ride called anger in my
Hand and I gave it to her
And she tore it in half
And then the popcorn bucket
Exploded because the
Carny never bothered to
Buckle anyone … Read the rest “The Carnival Ride Called Anger”