fill the void by repeating phrases. repeating phrases to make it so. repeating phrases to get it right. tonight would be a perfect night to be the boston strangler. tonight would be a perfect night…
Browsing Category Poetry
Purple is the Color of Healing Some Hope
I am a perennial vegetabledrinking myself purpleLoosely, we chained devilsspot a mushroom on the backyardOn the backyard sonnetOn the blessed easter of my chosenmother who sits like a strawberryin a cozy chair, I love her…
Ghazal for My Mother
She’d listen closely, then gently remind Such is life!Her mantra: don’t live a coulda shoulda woulda life. Tucked me to bed with when the blaze is blue, and the lamp-wick sputters, and the wind goes…
imagine | a boy you don’t love and who doesn’t love you
builds a fortress in his living room from blankets, pillows, hand-me-down futon and today after shift you’ll go there instead / of going home to your own twin-sized bed, sleeping as the walls you’ve already…
Half-Life of a Wooden Pipe
While my mother was getting her stomach pried open to remove a child formedwrong side up, my father sat in the hospital lobby balancing yellow notebookpaper and pen on legs half-feeling and unsteady as he…