The obvious-- Gray dust, the narrow escape of an electric death and the heavy balm of summer nights. The hidden-- Yellowed picture in Grandfather's coat, a first kiss under Midwestern porch light, and the whispers of children.
Tag: poetry
Bobby Pins
We are born in litters of hundreds, taken home in loving manicured hands. These polish-tipped mothers situate us together criss-cross applesauce. We are just like our mothers, different colors, shapes, and sizes. We are strong like them-- rarely breaking, always bending. Sometimes we are lost, and like them we spend time alone. We are always … Continue reading Bobby Pins
We Real Dark (Gwendolyn Brooks Copy-Change)
WE REAL DARK the black tattoos dozens on the guitar player WE REAL DARK. WE STAND STARK. WE WEAVE STORY. WE SCREAM GLORY. WE CLASH CROWD. WE FADE PROUD. WE GROW OLD. WE STILL BOLD. -- with apologies to Gwendolyn Brooks
To Savannah, With Love
You sit in sweltering Georgia heat, mosquitos drinking from salted skin. Another glass of sweet iced tea, fingered with Jack Daniel’s sour mash whiskey, sweats in your hand. The moon dips below the lip of your rented wrap-around porch and throws pale light on your rocking chair. Soon, when the warm liquor has curled in … Continue reading To Savannah, With Love
The Fun House
A skull lurks between warped mirros and revolving doors, hissing breath of dry ice pools around my ankles. Fear multiplies around me and in my eyes race across the blood splattered reflections of lost wandering souls searching for the safety of strong arms wrap around my heart trembles and laughs behind me in the purple darkness … Continue reading The Fun House
Typewriter Moon 