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- Untitled at sharepoetry
Crickets singing soon... / Patchy iced milk slushing from / melting snowball moon. - February April Day at sharepoetry
Creeks and rivers flow café crème / fed by melting molars of snow. / I sit and think of you now and then. / Creeks and rivers flow café crème. / Your ripple glint smile, robins flit in, / thinking of you, daffodil trumpets blow. / Creeks and r - The Death of Byron at sharepoetry
Death thumps in my chest, / drops soft like falling fruit. / The leafy carpet whispers yes…yes. / Death thumps in my chest, / I kissed the mandrake of your breast / and now I die with cloven foot. / Death thumps in my chest, / drops soft lik - A Budding Atheist Muses in French Class at sharepoetry
Peeling God / from the / underside / of mind / feeling / forgotten globs / of chewed pride / on the underside / / sticky little wads / on grubby fingers / dirty nails prod— / imprints linger / under this / slick / façade - Sunflower Girl (Final Draft) at sharepoetry
/ Before dark you’ll decline, / your brown eyes dropping / in cicada refrain, / in the peachy light of evening. / / For me your best perfume, / as the hidden legs of crickets creak, / honeysuckle, cornhusks whisper June / running by in - No Ulysses at sharepoetry
I could've carbon-copied Plath's "Daddy" here. - Sheol at sharepoetry
My first triolet. Yay! - ¡Corrida! Draft 3 at sharepoetry
Dedicated to CPie, who inspired the revision. - The Comic Fisherman at sharepoetry
Fisted knots can’t hold them together, / these lines of thought / I brought to the sick green-blue. / If I could walk water / the swells would trip me—caught-- / a ridiculous fish to rot or to stew, / twisted in oughts, in ought nots tethered - Garish Tinsel at sharepoetry
/ I remember the street lamp leaking white, / a rippling bridal veil in Christmas lights / dragged across a tarnished spoonful of pond. / Beyond, cars shred paper snowflakes, a sound / of distance, of wind. My cigarette seemed / mingled with - After the Affair at sharepoetry
Propping myself up at the sink, my face, / my blue eyes bleached and blanched and worn too thin, / dripping and smeared like watercolor paint, / diluted too much, I think. Then I grin / to convince myself it doesn’t matter. / There’s your tooth - Jesus and Jackson Pollock at sharepoetry
/ If I could die like Jesus / hamming it up at center stage / my impact could be tremendous. / I would change / the world with a sigh / if only I could die / / like that, / red spackled and battered blue, / egg tempera on a canvas m - Sonnet # 2 at sharepoetry
Immersed as I am in this gray daydrop / with autumn trees an ever darker green, / and the sun blotted out with charcoal chalk, / floating here in this impressionist’s dream. / Yes, the clouds scour the sky like raw steel wool, / scratching, scru - Sonnet #1 at sharepoetry
The cantaloupes softening on the vine / have earned a swarm of gnats, and are sagging / into themselves, age chewing on the rind / of fruit once so bulbous, pink and bragging. / Bees get drunk on what's left of their sugar / and they drone on ba - Under Pasted Moons at sharepoetry
Peeling gods from the sticky side / of consciousness, / tossing them in oceans / of giggling hyenas, / we lurk in churches / like stupid schoolgirls, / legs spread to the possibility / of love, of romantic moments / under pasted moons, - Visitation at sharepoetry
They lay with the daughters of man, / their sleek bodies and silkfan hands / fluttering like blossoms / raining, raining wet / twirldown boughsigh, / a thousand pinkwhite butterflies / seeding angels of regret. / / Their inkpool eyes suck - A Useless Passion at sharepoetry
A covered guitar holds up his bookcase / while a cigarette ash tips to the floor. / The crooked eye of Jean-Paul Sartre / on a jacket-cover, / a bottle of pills spilled on a table. / His songs will be forgotten, / his face will be forgotten, - Their Tenth December at sharepoetry
She washes the blood rose smudge / from the knife’s edge of his collar / that she pressed so clean, / so white, the steam fogging / the windows of their tenth December. / / She sees the tree from the laundry room, / squat-fat and decked wit - Nile in Emptiness (draft three) at sharepoetry
Rain patters dust, / fingers run over cracked mud. / A sprig of green in rust, / your heart foretells the flood. / / A shoot of vine cracks bone, / tendrils wrap jagged wilderness. / A river from a stone, / Nile in Emptiness. / - Dr. Frankenstein's Lament at sharepoetry
When will my funny choice malfunction? / I often wonder / creeping through these catacombs / by candlelight, / revisiting these familiar / old bones / wrapped in the sticky / paraffin of time. / / I’ve read all the books- / or most of - Crunched Under at sharepoetry
I’m a fraud. / The hot wax spat / on your arm, / that’s me / coming undone— / a flying feather bed / not a god… / / an odd, absurd moth / should gum a shoe / and not dream / to touch eggshell blue… / / I’m seeping through / y - The Sunflower Girl at sharepoetry
Before dark you’ll decline again, / drop your blonde head / to cicada song / in peach-lit evening. / / The late June perfume / of cornhusks and / honeysuckle will alight / on you one final time tonight. / / I mark my days this way, - Moon Viewing at sharepoetry
My toes are so wet / walking through the star-tipped grass / that God is jealous. - Intergalactic Love Song at sharepoetry
/ There is a galaxy between faces. / Jagged asteroids, dead planets, sulfuric acid atmospheres hurtling through the cold, dark space of time lost inside ourselves. / Don't stop shining for me. / It may take light years for your rays to r - The Woman in Room 808 at sharepoetry
“She didn’t always look this way,” / pulling a comb through her mother’s matted hair. / “Just last week she was fine, she was okay,” / / she said while the woman in bed rattled away / about Sammy, her cat, and the snakes on the f - Gorgo at sharepoetry
/ / "Come back to me with your shield or on it," / her knuckles were white but her eyes were dry, / but her lips brushed his ear as she said it, / / knew the red sun shone on their last moment / before he trod off to Therm - Later I Played You a Nocturne..... at sharepoetry
The street lamp leaked white upon the rippled pond / smearing half-moons of light and then beyond / the paper tearing sound of cars rushing / to somewhere, maybe to families sleeping. / In warm blanket caves they sleep and dream. / - Cerberus Unleashed at sharepoetry
What is a poem but the word made flesh? / It's the burning eternal dressed to kill. / It's our personal Cerberus unleashed / and Sisyphus puffing his stone uphill. / It's Jim Beam and Marlboros on her breath / while stumbling home f - Nile in Emptiness at sharepoetry
You are rain pattering dust, / Splattering death wet into mud. / You are greening my rust, / Your pounding heart quickens my blood. / / You are a shoot of vine cracking bone, / soft tendrils in jagged wilderness. / You - Wading Through Frogs at sharepoetry
/ Wading through frogs / going about business, / not wanting God. / the yellowed dead / button eyes / bear witness, / glinting in the / stinking reeds-- / / no forgiveness. / crunching jellied / - Growing Old at sharepoetry
Like fireflies flickering in the night / is the borrowed happiness of the world. / Our Mason jar lanterns’ yellow-green light / / winking at us through a summer storm’s might, / soothing heart-leaps of each boy and girl, / th - Corrida! at sharepoetry
/ some day I’ll make something of myself, / seize the satyr by its hairy throat / like a matador / and squeeze / the wine from life’s bota, / smoke black cigars, / waltz on the precipice / before I’m gored, / bleed - Dead Like Jesus at sharepoetry
wish I were dead just like Jesus / spattered battered blue / hanging meat, holy jerky / purified by pagan sun / draining, dripped / on salty old cross / dried, stripped / plastic packed for / mass consumption. / - Floater at sharepoetry
/ my faith, a dead fish / floating, flakes / bakes in a sun smeared / across the sky like a firefly / squashed to amuse a child. / / it settles into black water, drifts / down past sea things with eyes / like da - Someone's Playing a Cello.... at sharepoetry
Down in the bottoms / someone’s playing a cello. / You can just hear its / echo massaging the / walls of / pandemonium. / / Down in the bottoms / my toes curl like talons in / the gray dandruff of ash / shak
