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Literature Text
A corpulent redhead wound
up of berries and anaplastic
marmalade steps out
into the street, soft and frizzy -
ay, there's the rub. Drink
your aphrodisiac,
boy.
Boy,
the red string always lapses
and recovers a blissful doubt:
such staticky dreams
of picking up seed
and fizzling
out.
up of berries and anaplastic
marmalade steps out
into the street, soft and frizzy -
ay, there's the rub. Drink
your aphrodisiac,
boy.
Boy,
the red string always lapses
and recovers a blissful doubt:
such staticky dreams
of picking up seed
and fizzling
out.
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Literature
Indefinite Tides
she speaks in vinegar riddles
and bides her time in shipwrecked
smiles- she's
ticking off days for the boy
with stormy eyes who promised
he'd be back in a season or
two. he, who was
crafted from the leftover bits of the moon
and the meandering sky with runaway
stars lurking deep beneath his ribcage,
waiting to fall whenever he spoke
like a saint, whose divine sacraments
parted land and birthed lives; like a
sorcerer whose words launched a
thousand sunken ships but
now, she pops pills like reminders,
stabilizers that last 4-6 hours
depending on her ability to forget
and she's lost in herself
again, among faltering brainwa
Literature
remuneration
there were dreams of abasement, tearing up at the thought of
the noxious corners of your eyes. i saw them at a glance and fell
headfirst in the Styx, catching billowing waves of uncertainty and
heartache. they crashed with a decade-begrudged mind that was far
from healing -- far from me.
and though the fall was abrasive and the
waves, their own harangue, their heartache
and toxins faded & found graphite talismans
engraved in a red wrist warmer.
the ground that my blood decorated, with a history of broken bone
marrows now showed how unnecessary a transplant w
Literature
sillage
I hated that we were drunk when we made love,
but you were smoking your anxiety and
tossing me beers and
one bottle became a dozen and
we kissed in the bathroom at the bar and
pressed our curves into a Picasso and
maybe I fell a little,
but you caught me.
Our time remaining became scant hours and hazy memories
but I remember sitting in the backseat and
I kissed your knuckles when you bloodied them and
we drank some more while dancing in your living room and
we made the bed ours if only for the night.
In the morning you begged me not to leave and
it sounded like the most beautiful thing in the world and
I wonder if you'd still mean it,
but
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Comments16
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The rhythm in the second stanza. 