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- Hanging Blood at sharepoetry
You never knew what you were capable of / until you help your husband on and off the bedside commode / because he's too weak to walk the five steps to the bathroom. / Hold the bedpan for him. / Flush the used toilet paper when he's done. / - Fragments (Revised) at sharepoetry
If I were a painter, I would paint portraits of paperclips, / pencils, eyeglasses, keys, and all manner of minutiae-- / take them and blow them up to the scale of a Rivera mural, / epic and sinister, so you are confronted by the legions of details - Paper Cuts at sharepoetry
Clipping the obituaries, / I am very careful / not to cut / through any / of the text. / / Not even the text / of the obituaries / surrounding the one / I am cutting / out. / / It is delicate work. / I even use tailor - Government Cheese at sharepoetry
Government Cheese / / The best enchiladas I ever ate were made / with orange government cheese. / The cheese grated impeccably, / complimented the carmelized onion / and tortillas de maize. / / It’s funny how even poverty has / cert - Poetry Soup at sharepoetry
Poetry Soup / / Note: not to be confused / with alphabet soup. / / Making soup / / is the most / / like making poetry. / / Anyone can make it / / and you can / / make anything / / into soup. / / All you - [ My heart is a rain barrel under the eaves. ] at sharepoetry
My heart is a rain barrel under the eaves. / I’m setting up and storing by, swallowing run-off, / rushing to take the laundry in. / / Our trashcans aren’t so full these days, / and the compost hill lies deep. / I burrow into places in myself - Ash, Tallow, Candle, Flame, Soap at sharepoetry
Ice scabs the black roads, the hills impassable / old houses overlook the Bottoms / become pedestaled offerings to the wind / stomping down power lines so they fall / arcing and hissing down into slush. / Porches bared like teeth, white with fro - Homebody, Homespirit at sharepoetry
Sweetly she haunts, / a toothless ghost. I catch her / hiding in smoke from the old stove; / a scent like toasted chilies in sweet oil / she loved so much, and a flavor like scorched bacon / coats my throat. / / Opening and closing - Hard Boiled Eggs at sharepoetry
Preparation appeals to the obsessive compulsive streak / that sleeps on the whole quiet in my nature. / How I enjoy with somber pleasure littering the sink / with little brown shells. / / Sometimes I can remove in virtually two pieces / a met - String Samsara at sharepoetry
The quartet musicians: I marvel at their sync. / Small meetings of eyes crossing chasms of collaboration, / the violent workings of their expressions as they demand notes / swaying torsos, tautly corded arms, cresting shoulder blades, / standing - I Masturbated at Work for the First Time Today at sharepoetry
I masturbated at work for the first time today. / / Not because I was horny or anything; / just to see what all the fuss is about. / It’s so highly recommended. It’s been given / so much precious, sordid attention from the press. - What Nourishes Me at sharepoetry
I am the shadows of the forest constantly on the prowl through the undergrowth / at any moment, I will break into a clearing. / Eternal twilight spawns this loam soft fungus moss / / under my heels is just a joke. Like my exhaustion. / Light - Fast Food Lunch Break at sharepoetry
I step out of the blue-gray world of the office / To the yellow-gray world of August smog. / Greedy for my hour, begrudgingly-bestowed / My hour away from shrill co-workers and the stab / of the copier's light that always tweaks the migraine-beas - The Wings of Horus at sharepoetry
The hills in autumn are hawk-colored. / The wind flaps and screeches through dry straw, / burlap and denim wait to be stuffed and faces painted on. / / Masked, we ride the wings of Horus into the dead season. / Corn husks twist into figures. - Moonstone, Opal, Tiger’s Eye, Jade at sharepoetry
I want to be a geode, sly and surreptitious. / Split me apart. Demosthenes open wide, / all serrated tongue and semi-precious teeth. / / I am redwood bark on a mossy floor, / dreaming of saguaro neighbors and / the stultifying Arizona clim - Chasing the Worm at sharepoetry
Satan doesn’t have to come to me. I’ll go to him. / I expect to see him: waiting, massive, / writhing. / / I am too impatient for the bottle. / I chew through pure blue agave, / greedy for the gusano. / / Buffeted by protein, elixired, - Talkin' West Bottom Blues at sharepoetry
We look out over the place where our two rivers meet / We look out over highways that loop and fence the town / But I don’t see the sky. All I see is ground / West Bottom sunsets drag my eyes down / / Stockyard chains still swingin at the clos - Visceral Response at sharepoetry
I concentrate on trying not to sweat. / You may find this hard to believe / But when I speak, I bruise my tongue. / This is me now, talking through the pain. / / Another Fourth of July come and gone, / And as soon as dusk comes I make my esca - Sarah at sharepoetry
It seems impossible now to imagine how the years have separated us. / There was a time when we were like one being. Twins, / / dressed alike, hair in the same pigtails, mine light, / yours dark, but colors nonetheless off the same brush. / W - Pit Stop at sharepoetry
Always surreal mirrors of the city town or outskirts they inhabit / selling fishing tackle bait night crawlers flies / racks of music on audio cassette or eight-track / or Mexican ice. / / Curiously odorless despite eight coffee dispensers / - Idolatry at sharepoetry
This desire is absurd. / I have no hope of knowing you. / We happen to inhabit the same planet. / That is the extent of our commonality. / / Hollywood peddles. / I promised myself I would look / but never buy. Yet I look down - The Under-Stair Prayer at sharepoetry
It was this past winter, maybe even / around Christmas time. I was working late. / It had already gotten dark, and / I was on my way to the pop machine, / bopping downstairs, humming under my breath, / loose change jingling in hand, thinki - A Feast for Mosquitoes at sharepoetry
I loved the mountains. The Blue Ridge, / the Great Smokies with their dim charcoal halos. / The air was too thin for insects to breathe, / so I breathed in for the swarm, / relieved that I could bare my arms and legs to the air, / to the coo - O, Bury Me Not at sharepoetry
Sunset red stains the plains / like Quantrill days in bloody Lawrence. / A kestrel arcs overhead, but he has not / one red feather. / / On either side of the highway, / country miles filled end to end / in feed corn, alfalfa, and soy; / a - Ultraviolet, or Roy G. Biv (Warning- very long piece) at sharepoetry
Somewhere over the rainbow, / There are no seven steps to heaven. / But the spectral paths of deadly sins / await my tread. / A leather needle and an alchemy den, / where, white-smocked, I gather / Solomonic shades for black experiments. - Blank Verse at sharepoetry
Merciful-- the only kind adjective / ever ascribed darkness; it awards us / the privilege of aeons-old stars: the chance / to wink out of existence, with as little / movement as it would take to turn over / in our blankets, colored ash by mo - Churrascaria at sharepoetry
Passador, / / Rotate me. / Passing with your knives, / your skewers / standing high / I summon you / with signs discreet / Though my hunger / is anything / but. / / Is this a bit of my skin? / Moist medallions sliced - A Ring and a Veil (Second Draft) at sharepoetry
I. That sound -- / is it church bells? / Air thick with / holy reverberation. / / Eyes turn to me / white-gowned / supposed climax / of both life / (a girl’s life anyway) / and the event at hand. / Father’s arm guides / acros - Delirium at sharepoetry
The rumblings of consciousness / nacreous illusions bloom / the mind-fields scarlet: / Poppies. Dead-eyed center. / / Gravity does not exist. I could / rise from this bed. Your body / is my body. Your temperature dips / as mine rises, - The Alley at sharepoetry
It’s been an unusually tempestuous winter. / We come dragging up, shored to the building sides / by the wind-tunnel effect, the narrowness / of this space, between parking garages / and the back doors of bars; / The throttle of running-low ta - Quality of Life at sharepoetry
You knew me when I was beautiful. / I don’t want you to see me now. / I don’t want you to walk away tsking, / the pity— / / “Not even thirty yet, and already gone to seed.” / Or worse, / Thanking your lucky stars that things never / Went - Cream of Tartar at sharepoetry
Aftermath of fermentation: / / crystalline grape guts / scrim staves of / a now-empty cask. / / Hundreds of bottles of wine / and divine meringues / whisper like possibilities in / / shared oak origins. / Smudges of lipstick, - A Ring and a Veil at sharepoetry
That sound— / / Is it the single strike / of some imperial gong? / / Or is it the shaping blow / of a war-smith / / and the dark men come / to shroud me / / in veil black. / - Sleeping on the Couch at sharepoetry
I am forced to flee / nightly the odious thunder / of your apnea. / - The Minotaur's Daughter at sharepoetry
A man cut out for slaughterhouse work / He’d come home invigorated, bellowing for meat / no meal complete without some blood- / or gravy-smothered dish. / / Split-toed creature of excess, / his bulk scrubbed porcine pink / smooth as a peni
