Summer’s Cypris
Sun shimmered golden-crest hair cascading like water down an endless crystal brook; twisting, contorting, tracing the divine curves of Aphrodite like a sculptor forging alabaster beauty and life: Every step […]
Category Archives: Poetry
I’m a poet, yo. Holla.
A Bath with Bourbon
A smile escapes from her lips, slithering across her face like a red bourbon river. Her hands quiver with the excruciating pleasure of “I shouldn’t do this,” leaving behind his pleading whispers of “please don’t […]
Samuel
I remember, when I was young, holding a beer to my lips and tasting the bitter, bubbly glass. It was cold and hurt my teeth. Sam Adams, my father told […]
Stage One, IV.
They say the dead can’t walk, but I’m watching you move right now. I’m watching as the bump on your head spreads from your frontal lobe, down your spinal cord, […]
Sestina: The Plastic Flower
Ending words – A: Plastic B: Cloth C: Blue D: Eternity E: Alone F: Memory. Form – abcdef, faebdc, cfdabe, ecbfad, deacfb, bdfeca, be/dc/fa (with each letter corresponding to the word ending […]
An Evening Shopping
I went to the supermarket yesterday to buy some chicken. It was cold in the frozen food aisle, so I asked the man next to me for his jacket. He […]
Untitled
(Warning: Shitty, unfinished surrealism ahead.) I had to stop at 7-Eleven to get a drink, so I pulled over and parked outside. The lime green light of the sign flickered […]
3:25 AM
(Warning: Surrealism ahead.) It’s 3:24 AM and the sun has long since set. I’m tired and I want to go to sleep, but there’s a riot outside. People are throwing […]
Clementine
I had an orange yesterday—or at least I think it was an orange. When I peeled it, it was green, which isn’t orange, but I still think it was an […]
I may well be an alcoholic. *Revised version has been published
Poetic, edited version: I may well be an alcoholic. How do you know if you’re an alcoholic? Do your friends tell you? Do you stop having friends? Do you just […]
Friday, 2:00 A.M.
Last call echoes through the air, a parade empties into the street. First passes a marching band, walking in step through the February air, humming and clanking glass bottles in […]
Words. On the Internet. 