Statue
I am laying in wet cement, gray mud blanket gobbling up my plague. It is thick like me, like the twenty years of plaster inside. Everything is hardening. Kidney. Liver. Fallopian Tubes. Guts. Heart. I...
View ArticleAnd Then (From Dead Men’s Love)
* A reconstruction of Rupert Brooke’s Dead Men’s Love There was a Poet, just like a Woman. And they were dead. They did not know the sun or that their time had served a filthy dust. One old day, they...
View ArticleThe Orange Hatter
She is the orange hatter. Holding orange rose blossoms against black lace. Bride marrying a fish; a plaid, handsome fish. He watches her walk, holds stern hands together, to keep from touching a...
View ArticleProper Tragedy
As sincerely, as satisfied as a secret lady can be. It is nearly one miracle. A passion! A failed art with reflection; manner. A poor woman ordinarily has little shame, but she comes with red knuckles...
View ArticleI Was Born To A Gray World
I was born to a gray world. Void of sunlight. Barricaded by ice. Hunters have come for me. I watched them gobble up sisters, a brother, and the woman who birthed me. I stayed, under rocks, under dirt,...
View ArticleTexas LongHorn
Up north, near borders and manure, a woman lives with a Texas LongHorn. She grows red potatoes and asparagus in spring water. She nudged her children with long pitchforks, for all the years that she...
View ArticleOld Books And She
I entered her last night. Through parted limbs, then parted. Forehead. Chest. Hard back books watching. We wrote a story for them. I told her that I never saw them read. The ancient people. I bore...
View ArticleI Know This Man
*This is a bit risque…so…if you aren’t an adult, don’t read it…LOL I feel myself screaming down low, my curves curving more, in search of, in need; my cave waiting, tugging on the emptiness, in...
View ArticleThe Girl In The Mirror
Over and over, dry skin flakes off my shoulders, crumbs of a younger me, revealing new layers that nobody has seen. I watch the girl in the mirror watch back. We do not know each other and, I think, we...
View ArticleThe Desert Is Infected pt.2
My eyes settle blue on boulders, on the desert. She doesn’t know I am here. She doesn’t know how I watch her, or how I crawl with tortoise in patient crawl or how I soar with her carnivorous vulture....
View Article