Poems

 

 

2.19.18

Sheers too fragile to be steel sit bedside. 

Glass? 

There shimmering in sharpness ready to make another cut. 

To remove what is dead and dying. What no longer serves.

Pruning. 

And then the stinging pain of cut flesh. 

The red of blood. 

A howling scream 

Flesh sick, but not dead.

Flesh needing

Flesh needing

Healing not death. 

 

Do glass sheers know the difference?

Does the human heart that makes the cut? 

Haikus

11/17/2017

Shield closed on a heart 

Tender from everything

And nothing at all. 

 

Alone time disguised 

Loneliness masquerading 

Productivity

 

Never had a pain 

I did not laugh at for fear

It hurt more to not

 

1.8.18

the way we parted

my old self separated

bright new beginnings 

 

1.9.2018

"is it vanity?"

my mother asked: screen held tight

don't forget your mind.

1.11.2018

Haiku as weapon 

Thought they were tender-lovely  

Learning new violence

1.14.2018

the space is sacred

call it what you will but know

your shame won't change it

1.17.2018

saying more thank yous

melt in your mouth delicious

for stranger or friend. 

1.30.18

typed words on pages

am i allowed to hate them

when they receive praise

 

Did you prefer it

when if you stopped typing words

no one would quite care

2.1.18

green light. red light. stop.

my blackness so on display

as we lurch uphill

 

twice good and twice smart. 

always. no room for all that

middling off white

2.23.2018

do you still want it

the silence wrapped in moonlight

waiting in my chest

 

102 Haiku Journal 

1.1.18

yellow plastic at dawn

heights i thought i could not bear

freedom slides down deep

1.5.18

cold air stings my cheeks

fire from afar burns a light

squinting braving space

1.6.18

bobbing ice floes rush

pink light transforming water

from plain ice to dance

1.7.2018

string tied round my wrist

a tie that binds and breaks me

god in my healing

1.7.2018

chocolate bounds through

white flecked fur creates

delight expanding.

1.7.2018

shouting at me round

what you won't/don't understand

does not make me stay

1.10.2018

where do you put him?

in the box of your knowing.

there for no other.

1.13.2018

smile cross the platform

yes opposite directions

but together here

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Limericks

 

 

4.28.18

 

 

 

Once there was a boy with a bucket

The outside was labeled quite nicely "fuck it"

He carried it quite nicely to boot.

And mostly sat on it to toot. 

But no one really made quite much of it.