March 2012
5 posts
A soggy striped sweater sat
warming on the radiator,
damp from wet snow and rain.
Its collar hung low like a school
child inside on a sunny afternoon.
Tears dripped from the buttons,
plopping onto the hard wood floors with disdain.
As the heater began to hiss quietly
the sleeves began filling with hot air,
fibers coming back to life until
it was so full of being it peeled itself from
the rusty...
February 2012
10 posts
If you were a mailbox
You would taste like a million finger prints
And smell of envelopes and loneliness
Your paint would be chipped from a faulty flag
Your hinge would squeak from rain season
I would open you, and feel nothing inside
Standing under yellow light
it is January.
The ground is still soft
as I rock back and forth on
my heels, unraveling myself
before a stranger.
Words slipping into the
night, not quite cold
enough to be caught
by the wind—winter
is letting me down.
It’s warm breath keeping
me out under the stars long
enough to forget
why we keep secrets.
I think I’d like
A soft pretzel,
Warm and salty—
Like your skin on
An August
Afternoon
December 2011
5 posts
October 2011
5 posts
I took the batteries out of the clock
time still passes
the hands stand still
I would too, if I could
September 2011
32 posts
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Listen
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This is just to say
I have eaten
the plums
that were in
the ice box
and which you were probably
saving
for breakfast
Forgive me
they were delicious
so sweet
and so cold
-William Carlos Williams
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