Saturday, October 25, 2014

self loathing

the hatred he felt
for the way he was born
sparkled in the droplets
of blood
welling up in the half-moon tears
up and down her arms.
scar tissue
gouged
in the depth of a soul
too young
to comprehend his pain was not
her fault.
when his own blood
splattered hotel walls
she understood
and commemorates his pain
with love
in ink
where he’d left it
so many years
before.

Tuesday, October 14, 2014

a revision from last week and a cento

revision:

wrapped in warmth
of sunlight reflected
in the fire of her
hair.

you can almost
hear
the salty ocean foam
ebbing along
now unsullied shores.

bouquet of island flowers;
over sweet
and impure.
too fleeting to last.

like him.



cento
from Matt Rasmussen's Black Aperture

openly, unashamed

swabbed clean

my coat pockets were full of ash.

it melts into puddles the color
of whatever hovers above

and let the space I free up 
remain vacant

like empty and elegant suits

filling every shadow
blowing the dark open.

and I wrote this,
and this.

an echo of the other

a red voice urging
EXIT.

Tuesday, October 7, 2014

poetry class

Since I'm currently taking a poetry class this quarter, I've decided I'm going to post everything I'm working on in and for class just to keep myself accountable to the high standards that the professor expects.


reflection

wrapped in warmth of sunlight
reflected in the fire of her hair.
you can almost hear the salty ocean foam
ebbing along the now unsullied sand.
the scent of island flowers,
over sweet and impure 
and too fleeting to last.
like him.