All posts filed under: poetry

Sleepless Burdens

Homeless man shaking a cup Can you imagine he was someone’s dream once? We’ve made a wasteland and call it peace, We’re malnutrition, but yet we feast, Keep on ice the bodies of the unclaimed deceased And remains in hushed increase By you and I, So they stack them four tombs high. Unidentified. Budget cuts. Children left to die. And they were someone’s dream once. We cut corners and call it tact We leach media and call it fact- Concrete and don’t turn back. And that homeless man shaking his cup, You’ve just learned not to look at. And those badlands are blinked as the beacon of “freedom.” & So people don’t dream anymore. They look and see cash on the shirts on their backs Sloth made simple And you slip through the crack Like a penny stepped on my single-soled Pride & the secrets they keep of those who’ve Suffered and sighed. But go buy a new dress because you’re slight of hand Of the Maker’s of a collapsing land threaded Together that tapestry …

A Vague Transgression

Our last night The split in the blinds cast slitted shadows on your skin The moon leaks a pale blue into the Filtered air and kicks up into our lungs  Cat in the sink sleeps away this August heat It’s four a.m  Phone sounds the waking bell You kick the sheets that tie around your knees and go to brush your teeth I pinch the creases of my eyes to keep from crying  Tears seep inevitably between my fingers  Walk downstairs  Wait for the coffee to steep  ….wait a little longer than it usually takes, Trying to grasp the precious moments you’re  Still with me, wishing maybe You’d stay for breakfast Or an extra day, or week But you don’t falter on those plans you made We walk in somber silence into the humid morning, Dragging our feet across the pavement to your car Grab the handle, kiss and wave goodbye Your lights fade across the blacktop lot I march back with folded arms into our empty flat Crawl up the stairs, flick off the lights …

The Reasons Why I’m Leaving

Because I tried to wear another’s ring But it burned me Because I show her your picture everyday Because we picked out funeral plots And joked like the jokeWasn’t ours Because the smile on my face is feigned Because Annie’s too young to understand That she has your eyes Because the closet smells like tobacco and patchouli When I open the doors Because I hear you in my head laughing when I think of something funny Because I always seem to forget where I’m driving to Because she folds clothes onto Her paper dolls and walks them into the fire Because sadness is selfish And new shoes are expensive Because I spend my days in listless Envy for the end that came to you, but not to me. Because I’m nothing but a half-human, half-venlafaxine Drone standing on legs I had forgotten I had Keeping your grave decorated because It feels like home Because my fidelity wasn’t forced And now I can’t be free Because I spent 25 years Killing time, And now it’s killing …

From a Dream

Why am I alone? Sitting empty clutching Golden promises The smoke rises yet Higher from the fireplace Taunting shadows Of this man watching Over your maiden body Buried under oaks Where did you go to? The bloodhounds have lost your scent Was it not enough? Riddling me still Sitting empty clutching Why am I alone?

Natural Guise

What kind of value is in a sunset in a blank stare of ruby sky that lasts minutes and dies forever repeating until eyes cannot see it. What kind of meaning does a moon hold that wanes tighter and tighter into celestial discipline that breaks and bends and therefore spends eternity existing for no other purpose than mystery While the humans gleam short-lived lives capsuled by illness and delusions because one of them talked to snakes and bit into apples Isn’t it a wonder how nature spirals? that rocks cut in two could hold crystals In oysters, pearls I’m not asking what the purpose is but what is the purpose? I’ve lost my only way to see Malice once to the ears is now melody We’re living in a vaudeville thriving on the innocent kill and I’m admiring the sunsets look how much the earth endures Yet we hold no regrets.


Concentrate The meaning of the word To focus The chemistry of congregation Negative reflections of Snow kept gates And gangrene feet Ripped clothes And rat feasts The deprivation of my grandmother And her loved ones The near-loss of a society A culture Concentration My husband remembers the first sweet thing That caught on his tongue, One thin foil-wrapped sheet of Wrigley’s gum, That he traded For with one his father’s cigarettes The scolding Was worth it, To realize the world wasn’t All gray & is only half bitter.