maybe if i were ee cummings i could write a poem.than teach ten thousand stars how not to dance"
cookbook.i'm opening my cookbook, busying my hands, and forgetting you.cookbook.
dishwasher.i will hide in the dishwasher, and let the steam wash away my sins.dishwasher.
An Afternoon RememberedI want to remember us like this—side by side in the sun. Joni is pouring her lyrical troubles into one ear, and like an echo I hear your earthy voice repeating them. I sing too, softer, but my voice cracks on “Case of You.”An Afternoon Remembered
Underneath my forehead, your shoulder is warm, freckled. You sway a bit, eyes closed.
I don’t say, “I will miss you.”
I don’t say, “It will only be ten days.”
I don’t even say, “I want to live forever, curled inside this afternoon,” though I am thinking it.
Seasonscape
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Hope you like it.
'you, a sumptuous
dessert sitting on a plate.
my eyes, ravenous.'
If you'd rather me not, I understand. I love your poetry, it's very flowing and expressive and thought provoking. Just thought I'd ask/compliment.
~Ruby
Your work is sort of intriguing. I'd like to see where you're taking it.
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And the rest is rust and stardust.
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-Cali Rezo-
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