Mar 09

17

At 17 years old,

We danced the night away to an electronic beat surrounded
By a swirl of adolescent bodies,

Spun on our heels, floated away on a melody.

Teenage bodies move like the wind, soar higher than the clouds,
And have so far to fall.

When he came for 17 of their bodies,

Emptied his magazine into their swirling vortex,
I imagine I heard them fall like the branches of an aged
Feb 15

I Am The One

I am the one you picked apart in grade school because my skin held too much sunshine,
my name twisting around your tongue until you chopped it off at the ends, slashed

at it until it fell in with the the others, slipped on denim and pink converse, toed the line
that you drew on the playground, what are you, where

are you from, no where are you really from, awkward silence filled with the hum of cultural
Feb 03

To the Girls

to the tall girls, the graceful willows who bend in the wind and reach towards the sun, bowing heads and curving spines to shrink into proper proportions, the girls who are afraid to wear heels and hold their heads high above the clouds, they told you should never make a man feel small, a man will never love you if you overshadow his ego, they tried to bury you but they forgot that you were seeds.
Jan 04

What They Left Behind

George Left “I’ve Got a Gal in Kalamazoo” A 3.0 GPA And his widowed mother, too Tommy Left his half-mastered square dance Dreams of New York City And a half-written postcard from France James Left a sweetheart named Billie A bedroom half clean And a one-eyed cat called Willie Charlie Left St. Elizabeth Innocent games of war And many an unspoken syllable Jack Left fears of lightning and thunder His auburn curls And a weeping baby brother Uriah Left a dozen lowing cows Psalm twenty three
Nov 11

The Child of My Imagination

I fed her a rainbow of fruits and Starbursts and Lucky Charms in the hope she would take those bountiful colors and weave me a new tapestry of life - I bathed her in rosewater and lilac perfume and pink bubble bath wishing her to grow up sweet and strong - I handed her crayons and markers and buckets of fingerpaint dreaming of maps she would draw me to places unknown - I took her to the park where she climbed over swingsets and slides and merri-go-rounds
Nov 05

11:34

The clock stopped at 11:34
In stillness and smoke and the faint wail of sirens 
The clock is stopped at 11:34
Amid shattered glass and twisted metal
Shell casings and shrapnel 
And a scrap of flowered fabric 
The clock survives 
Wood chipped and glass face cracked, but it remains 
Among bricks and fiberglass and plastic molding
The guts spilling to the outside 
Blood and hair and a severed arm