My Poems

creative writing is. imperfections of communication overlaid with art and emotion... recorded semi-permanently. almost painfully deliberate and ridiculous

to Imani, with violins and butterflies and such

(I hate) Bottled Dinghies

 

so while the world is drawing a blank, there is turmoil below

people have lost sight of their minds and hearts, their skin has become opaque

but the orchestra in the lobby was not taking care of us

it was the ghosts that were trained to do so

besides those who try desperately

            to outshine the sun.

so many words to convey something, but it cannot be said straight

the honesty is acidic, perhaps the roof of your mouth

or some other device to conceal

the misfortune of your tongue.

hey someone you left behind something greater than you

but i give you my face for a mirror

my thoughts for a sidewalk

my brain for a chewtoy.