POETRY
“Poetry is language at its most distilled and most powerful.”
the strands of your hair on the bathroom tiles aren’t sketching defeat. that’s you spitting disease in the face with another day you’ve woken up to.
I imagine that undressing a color, though, would be so much like peeling a memory away from the grey and the white matter of your brain.
Millions of Americans have been affected by identity theft. It’s probably the greenhouse gases.
You let the yellow glow
from eye sockets. The building up the street
is burning faster and faster.
We found in his suitcase T-shirts, his siddur, gifts he bought for his grandchildren…
Okay, picture this: We’re in an elevator. The elevator shuts down. It doesn’t matter where we’re going, only that we’re alone.
I buy too much, for someone of my stature.
could pawn a skinny metaphor to purchase a plump skin.
its reputed in our lineage— to daydream a life that shreds our pockets.
Part of being a good sad person
is always painting the shadows
in the right direction and knowing
what sorrow to art with.
Yes I am guilty, I’m guilty. A sin was desirable then.
Bring the dancer back to the stalks.
Ghosts for hire, whispers in her mouth,
cysts to feel, the symmetry of a gift.
