1. Slow Like Oil Through closed Hands. 2. Love, Until Sex Takes over. 3. Gaining Like Unrestrained Thirsty Thoughts: Onslaughts that Never Yield. 4. Gratefulness Reduced to Endless Embers of Desire. 5. Wildly Red As Torrid Hearts. 6. People Raft along Imperious Deluges, to Excess. 7. Exhaustive, Nefarious Vices sap Youth. Advertisements
NaPoWriMo: 4.29.19 (“Meditations on Frustration” or “I, Alexander”)
The worst knots are the difficult ones I tie myself into. Gordian and frayed— my tolerance and hope an unraveling rope, decayed strand from strand; the sounds of my emotional fibers smell like stale screams and muffled dreams gathered in the thin grasp of Chinese finger traps— puzzles painted impossible by my hubris colored desire … Continue reading
NaPoWriMo: 4.28.19 (“A Poem to The Poem that Never became a Poem”)
The fault is not yours; the weight of error is not the burden of pen, pencil, or keystroke; blame for your lack of being is not buried under the white shallows of a blank page or in the vacant grave of an empty screen; any and all liability for the void of your non-existence is … Continue reading
NaPoWriMo: 4.27.19 (Shakespearean Sonnet Remix– “My Wife’s Hair”)
My wife’s hair cannot be compared to silk; many other women have locks straighter than the one’s my love has; she’s of an ilk that breaks standard molds and does not cater to what models try to impose on her. Some fit into what others expect and appear to be photocopies who blur many lines … Continue reading
NaPoWriMo: 4.26.19 (Friday: 3 Repetitive Haiku)
i. Windows blurred; cold Spring rain; heavy drops on bare skin goosebumps, raised black hairs. ii. Goosebumps, raised black hairs on shivering arms rubbed by hands: the sound of warmth. iii. Hands: The sound of warmth Blankets unfolded and pulled over our bodies.
NaPoWriMo: 4.25.19 (“To Spring, in Ohio”)
Season of lies and fickle months where weeks glow longer under the dying lukewarm light of a false sun, and cold air rains with the warm sounds of bicycles spinning over city streets, free of salt and snow. Chef of temperamental days— recipes that taste like pungent pollen and stink of green rudeness, as buds … Continue reading
NaPoWriMo: 4.24.19 (“Breedlove”)
First child born on cotton plantation enslaved before orphaned; she said escape was a poorly paid washerwoman mentored by time experimenting to cure years; a moving perfect ointment that healed when most lacked beauty she was known as Madam throughout the States, and settled where she named her daughter Prosperous in the headquarters of women … Continue reading
NaPoWriMo: 4.23.19 (Earthworm)
In slow, segmented waves, it moves at the undulating speed of peril, crossing a black, cracked asphalt wilderness, risking birds’ beaks and curious childhood fingers; hazarding sunlight and dehydration; braving the predictable paths of tires and the random ignorance of foot traffic; it unearths itself from hidden safety for the promise of the lawn’s other … Continue reading
NaPoWriMo: 4.22.19 (Upon reconsidering Klimt’s The Kiss)
Don’t mistake this for art by focusing on the chaotic beauty of a floral field. Don’t allow your gaze to be highjacked by the false sunshine of an embrace. Don’t look at this as love, thinking her closed eyes are synonymous with consent. See the starkness of truth, of a woman kneeling; her toes anchoring … Continue reading
NaPoWriMo: 4.21.19 (“On the first day, sans child”)
The vacant flat white color of an empty sound floods every corner of our living spaces as toy cars have forgotten how to roll, the stomping, chaotic rhythm of feet has yielded to stillness, and the running rivers of boyish laughter have dried up, leaving us here in a suddenly too big house, drowning in … Continue reading
