Poetry
After Macbeth 1. Three women stir wind from fog.One has no thumb. One has no…
The sun lifts up the moon Spilling the sky in ink, And we marvel at the stars, While our feet…
now i suppose you could say it was my fault,the way the story ended, so miraculously, sotragically, like spilling salt…
They say water remembers, so maybe it knowsthe last time I was small enough to believe in winning.Watch the rain,…
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The tree is standing, but its branches are crooked and its leaves are wilting–orange drops…
I wake up It’s 3:14 a.m. I could feel a build up of mucus and…
Sun setting over beaches and LA skylines, Palm trees line the street. Pinks, purples, and…
Flecks of sun falling / as we sit / on the fading porch / our…
Sunset skin, mottled with black flecks Sucked breath and knife slams down Right side cleaved,…
They’re always “tennis shoes” to me, though no one in my household ever held a…
Steam rising from clothes I hang out to dry. Smoky haze catches breeze, disappears in…
Borrow a faint amber light from the midnight street to illuminate two lonely shadows, rugged…
Your mouth is a rabid dog. It sneers and titters, swishes sticky saliva. Starving. Snickering…