Poetry

  • living

    " if i am killed for simply living, let death be kinder than man. " - Kinder Than Man, Althea Davis.

     

    if i am killed,

    mangled and beaten,

    for simply living,

  • It Begins

    It begins —

    This thing call Spring —

    With sunshine and birdsong

    Slowly infused into everything.

    It begins with

    Deep brown rivers gauged in viscous dirt roads,

    As the frozen ground thaws and overflows.

  • to live is

    to live is to see the sorrows of others

    to long for the song of your mom

    to stroke the head of your black dog


     

    to live is to see the sorrows of others 

    to greet at the sound of your father’s feet

  • Bus thoughts

    I envy those who’ve never known Loneliness.
    She is not just empty space—she’s a presence,
    cold fingers brushing the back of your neck
    when no one’s watching.

  • Stained-Glass Girl

    you should be an image in stained-glass windows 

    the same ones you trace with your eyes every sunday 

    while hymns echo in your ears, words 

    you've known so long you forget the meaning. 

  • Morning, But Not Really

    it’s 2am and i’m still lying awake 

    with thoughts in one hand and feelings in the other. 

    how can i go to sleep with a head full of stars 

    and my face running away 

    up into the sky 

  • Neighbors

    The little boy

    his little red raincoat

    I remember my little purple raincoat

    it used to feel so big.

     

    His grandma

    her black raincoat

    trowel in hand

    I remember my grandma teaching me gardens

  • Poetry

    By wph

    Pre-Cambria

    All the little animals swam up to feel the air that day.

    They danced in the water like they never had before.

    I know they did.