scissors (20170516)

the invisible woman repeats numbers
like those soviet radio stations

my head fills with curvilinear
whorls of snail shells and fingerprints

the smell of cigarette smoke that is not
from a cigarette seeps into my garage

as i put clothes in the laundry basket–
–this night is coming to a close

and i am still knotted up like a boy
scout’s shoelaces

it will take a sharp pair of scissors
to release me

sunken eyes (20170423)

the bird sings the night sky
fading blues to pinks to
the solitary color of its heart

three trills, short
one cry, long
a heartbeat separated by chambers
struck out of order
a solitary sound of night

the rustle of feathers
the quiet of parting leaves
the river of the freeway
the black heart beating


It’s National Poetry Writing Month!
Day 23

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wet sidewalks (20170118)

in the rain a cyclist passes
unprepared for the sudden showers
an orange ember glowing
at the end of his cigarette

petrichor and marlboro lights
and i am ten
and the streets are wet
and black except for the
sodium cyclops eyes of streetlamps
home has that familiar smell
and nicotine-stained curtains

night song (poem 20160521)

latticework honeycombs
where bees make blood
instead of honey

all the same to vampires

(i’ve wanted to sink my teeth
into the soft skin of your neck
on more than one occasion)

marrow sitting deep
inside singing and humming
i can hear it while you sleep

calling my name
i curl around you
offering warmth in exchange


The Daily Post
Daily Prompt: Sing