Stories tagged poetry

Elise Imagines Herself Behind Flowers: 1938

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In your mouth is the attic studio Where your father’s brushes lie wet with water

for one dedicated to artemis

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artemis is but a mincing fawn:/ no sacred bitches need i in my ranks,/ nor hunting dogs to tear a man apart/ when i have teeth enough to bruise fine flanks.

Frances at Virginia Beach

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My husband waits for him to hurt himself. The boy drinks red wine between movements, Staring hypnotically at the back Of a girl’s head.

A lament

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I should have left by sea, / what good was it / not to suffer the sight / of home shrinking further

insomnia made bearable

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the cheek of you! to dream/ upon my sheets in schoolboy peace/ when here i lie,/ each second spent/ a tranquilized tiger cursed with awareness/ for all the flesh so near its maw.

Word Plus Word Squared Over Anti-pastoral as Truth

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The air aches with nothing.

Spatter

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Splat.

The House of the Rising Sun

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I blend in with my jeans and Batman t-shirt as if I am one of them. Just a middle aged woman walking her dog.

The Final Word

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w o r d

Thought Bubble for the Unobserved

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My accent doesn’t carry well over a milk steamer,beside a man in shorts, pulled-up white socks and New Balance running shoes shouting at a phone.

I'm Done.

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Just another day The rain came from above Wishing I was far away To realize it's just love The echoing heartaches shatter these walls Breaking down the corridors of this lie I know I'm not the only one she calls There's no reason for me…

Braque's Diary of the Atelier Cut-Outs

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Today, the buxom neighbor carrying blintzes Egged me not to care about What’s not flat. She forgot To bend, clanging together Some fronts and sides.

My Day To Your Night.

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The weather is chilly here in discomfort The goose bumps raise their black flags I've never peered through domes of eternal bliss Those sleek enough, slide past me I seek the empty company in brown plastic bags, With only a few holes and a branded…

when you're not here, your feeling is

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never have i wanted/ to stay in one place long,/ flight inspired to escape/ existential ennui--

Love and Cigarettes

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She's waiting there, for you, in bed but the analgesic cigarette calms your mind more than her heat. She's there waiting, in your bed, eyes closed, fluttering, somewhere between the dream and practical world.