Category: Uncategorized

back of a Laundromat, my Wash is in
the Dryer, in my hoody sweats and
Converse sitting on a folding
chair, at a folding table
anticipating folding
clothes
which I enjoy
as a Virgo
on my Laptop Typing Up
a Paper when Attention Drifts
as Radio starts playing Taylor Swift
I Mouth the Words thinking of Him and
Grin because I know I’m a Basic White Gurl

At first glance
–the ripples of the water–
the night has ensued,
Hell is empty, and all the demons have entered–

Scene l.

Possession.

The shades of scarves depict scarlet red,
Gorged from the inside out…
he craves the sound of dancing
and the sight of song,

Ecstatic in her subconscious reverie
infecting the mariachi with her despairing contortion,
Fingers warped in an eternal battle of elongation,
She finds the expression unexpressed until death,

…or so says the audience.

The ekphrastic strums of pair-like instruments vibrate through the night,
Translike for the player… and the played,
Two tunes synchronizing for the muse,
Set on a pedestal for her self-deprecation,
Captive of her own infective body,

Nothing more than an open sore to be intruded upon.

Half the canvas enthralled with the black dahlia,
The other susceptible to their own gloomy dreams,
Midnight strikes,
The room illuminated by the encompassing shadow,
Vibrating heart-strings connecting the mortal souls,

Luminescent skin pale as moonlight,
Levitating two inches on stilted flats,
Fabric inimical to the stage scene; set,
Vibrant hues clashing to wanting shades,
The gateways to her soul empty voids,

Scene ll.

Controversy.

The belief of not me spurs her on,
Possessive of her sprouting power
only ink smeared smudgedly on a piece of paper,
All entranced…
But that of the round, sunlit jewel

Solitary in its lonesome,
Similar to the empty vessel,
Absent of any hellish denizen,
For once, in her awkward embrace,
Abstinence was not obeyed.

Never meant for an interrogation
but you cause constant irritation
When did our relationship get so defective?
Wearing the hat of a detective

Feels like solving a crime,
trying to get you to talk
playing sleuth,
looking for the truth

Can’t believe I that mistook,
all the times you played defense
you were weaving a narrative for me

Putting down the book,
forgetting the initial hook
not all mysteries end seamlessly

All because of you,
I became Nancy Drew

“It’s called a friendship bracelet.”
She passed me a ring of colorful string
Pieced together by tiny knots and ties
Not perfect, but I loved how much she tried
From that moment on
It was on my wrist
So our friendship would never die

As time went on
The string began to fray
Little pieces of the bracelet
Started going away

She was leaving town
To hang out with some guy
When she came back
She would call off plans
“I can’t tonight, goodbye.”

The colorful string around her wrist
Slowly turned to grey
As the friendship that we had
Painfully faded away

April blinked—
and something peeled off me.
I wanted sun,
not you.

We fucked like
we could undo winter.
But spring still rotted
in the corners.

You called it love.
I called it
what I could get.

Now it’s summer again,
and I’m still
peeling myself
off memories.

Still burning
for something
that never
wanted to stay.

Did you know I think of you every day?
We’ve never met, but I’m certain we will.
Sometimes, I wonder when.
Sometimes, I wonder how.

I know people who hate you for what you’ve done
for what you’ve taken.
I’ve watched them crumble after you passed through

I know people who fear you, and others who quietly let you in.
You’ve taken those I knew,
those I love

Did you love them too when they rolled into your arms?
Where do they go when you call them?
Do they walk with you in silence?
Do they cry out, or do they already understand?

Are your fingertips gentle
when you tap their shoulder?

Or is your touch cold and final?

What is it like, keeping up this job?
Do you ever wish you could stop?
Would you rest if you could?
Do you have jealousy that we meet you once

But see life every day

Do you find peace in what you do?
Comfort in your mystery?
Power in your strength?

Are your arms always open wide?
How do you feel when we fight you?

When we push you away, only expecting to meet you again?

I fear the day I’ll have to see you come around
I hate you for what you’ve taken, and still, I’m forced to wait for you.

Impossible.

And yet, quite real.

No power, no barrier relevant
when eyes lock
and deep waters move

with landscapes ever-changing,
fortunes good and none.
The candle never to fall

or flicker.

Impossible.

And yet, rooms with light
and music.

Smell of books,
and rain.

Coffee at riverside.
Wool bundle
and cloudless noon.

Impossible.

And yet, vaults and lakes
aglow.

Drunk in the dimensional mountain air,
with a fireplace to laugh,
to cry.

Worlds ripped from anchors
and set to sail
on perfect wind.

Impossible.

And yet, not.

And yet,

not.

At the end of 2nd Street,
there is an old river that stretches
north along the weeds.
Packed, wet, delicious soil
along the edges- squirming
and sticky fistfuls in the ground.
White granules of fertilizer,
larva…
Something cool against my
skin.

Dang old corn shed,
it’s gettin’ me down.
Pop-doodle whiskey
and moldy wet ground.

Guess I done went plumb loco,
they all said I would.
So I’m hidin’ in the corn shed,
and I’m stayin’ here for good.

My woman, my woman!
C You done me such wrong!
H I’m a Van Gogh with both ears, babe:
O in church I wear a thong.
R
U Corn shed is my home, now.
S Corn shed is my tomb.
Oh, woman! Oh, woman!
I’ll trade my corn shed for you.

The wind ain’t no friend
carryin’ the stink of the hogs.
My soul’s goin’ crazy
like loose rollin’ logs.

Yeah, my woman was a savior,
savin’ my best friend right now.
Oh, I’m howlin’ at the moon,
and I’m sleepin’ with the cows.

R E P E A T C H O R U S

Now the townsfolk, they’re a-comin’,
they say I gotta go.
My corn shed, my corn shed:
Skip-Flappity-Due-Doe!

R E P E A T C H O R U S

Now I’m hangin’ from a rope,
like a bar of old soap.
Whee-doggies, it burns!
Now I’m dead, in an urn.

One may pave the sided streets from his neighbors guile,
To a diligence of a leader; or to an acid’s chyle.
This zephyr from the switchgrass of soulstice,
is unabridged by my mama’s veiled smile.
One’s true veilon is dogged behind the child.
Child who refused to find skin in war, to who has
witnessed it all, yet they won’t believe.
Won’t believe, won’t believe , won’t believe.
Groping my private xertz, to revise who I once grieved.
This Earth, prudently gritted dirt we walk on, and the prune treats.
Grown man said!; “it is zilched the sweat glands of my palms,
the taste of my siblings sugar to respirate the misconceived.”
My brutalized hope of humankind, we still appease to rise.
We’ll rise, we will rise, In the morning glow of the righteous side.
We’ll yet to rise, they must see us arise, In the sweet scent of soaking in our own pride.
One cannot sell what is lurking behind closed doors;
Devil’s dolor, my daughter’s death, or child he mourns.
Giving hordes in the vessels of lore. Given my miscarried soul’s blood,
the shedded personality in her core.
In all of humankind, we subdue to rise.
We’ll rise, we will rise, in the morning glow of the righteous side.
Yet to rise, grab my ear darling;
In the sweet scent of soaking in my own pride.
Taught from the mimes of cheat,
It interprets the spirituality of a celestite; connection, clarity and peace.
Dip my feet in water of wheat, ingredient to a carbohydrate.
One nutritional yeast, another way to cure me.
Time will hibernate, clocks return in time,
My son will call to mind how humanity
turned one’s back on selfless dehumanitized wide.