Posts
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A Moon-Eating Resplendent-Goddess Lizard-Woman
I fall back onto my silk pillows and open my mouth to the moon. I swallow the hard light like it is chewable. -
Frequency
The sun is under a lot of pressure. 3.84 trillion psi at its core. Hot enough, free enough, to compose wild-eyed symphonies. -
Silk Cities
I build cities from dancing ribbons,
breathing wind into the tiles of recollection and imagination:
cold bricks, warm clay, wet lips.
I want to be Marco Polo, -
Acid
Lactic:
ingrown passion. rotting flowers. sweating like a clinomaniac. sweet, sweeter, sweetest, sour. I want the sky to fall.
remember the pickle jars.
I left them on the windowsill. -
Complementary Light
We carry complementary lamps:
Stars and Christmas and Pastel-Sun.
A little light is a glorious thing,
like the fleeting harmony of footsteps.
The sun sets at four; and we remember our candles, -
The Monastery
“Tedam! What should I do when I find a snail in my flowers?” I asked, holding up the small creature for his inspection.
Loves
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Wildfires in Autumn
Sirens sound, at 2:00 am. My heart pounds as I look out my apartment window and into the smoke.
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Pumpkin season
I’m four years old and it’s pumpkin season again.
I’m holding tightly to my best friend’s mittened hand
and feeling the wind whipping at my face,
turning the tip of my nose pink,
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The lost boat
I am a lost sailor
Pulling
Tugging at
The boat
The wave
Here
Crashing down on me
Ripping my soul into
As many pieces as there are grains of
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Hand-Scrawled Lines
I want to breathe
Both with looming skyscrapers,
And mountains stretched high,
To feel the sun
Smiling on my skin,
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I Bake America - Inspired by the "I, Too, Sing America" poems
If my life, my American life, was a table setting
Laid out lovingly by all my ancestors.
It would have the usual trappings:
