conversation in your pulseListen,conversation in your pulse
My heart beats slow, this morning.
Lay your head on my chest to feel.
We are in danger. Splintering apart, like a straw roof on fire,
My First and Last War PoemWhen he came back from the war, all he saw was shrapnel. Not like the sort on the battlefield, at home there were no bodies, there was no thick sticky blood on his hand,My First and Last War Poem
She stood at the beach, brushed back a strand of hair a jellyfish washed onto shore. She knew only the dead were that clear and it reminded her of the poisonings: dead cats and dogs curled in balls along the sidewalk after some jerk littered the doorsteps steaks marinated in cyanide.
instead, he watched his family, watched himself at the dinner table as if he weren't even e
Six PoemsI Under the polished chrome sky, under the oak tree older than your grandparents, you sit on cross-stitched wolves. You lace your fingers through the dirt in crevices ants would drown in.Six Poems
II What’s in the wind today, Annie? Howling, hooting, the soft brush of seeds traveling to find a new home? Or is it silent? Is there nothing today? Nothing at all?
III Next door, discordant music plays, you wouldn’t call it atmospheric, but it is what your neighbors like. Pots and pans, screams, murmurs, sports scores—just like home. &nb
untitled 4Crickets skim across the water, sunset, the lake is on fire, underneath, the fish wait for otter,untitled 4
for a game of chase, dire perhaps deadly some other time, but for now, in this spare tire
world, it’s just a game. An otter appears, an animate wet- suit, a creature not tame
enough for human hands, let loose from the cages of seaweed. The fish take off, met
with their game. Above the tweed water, the crickets skim the top like snowshoes, one in lead
other the others. Not a drop moves, but under the surface, con
writing
Artistic
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^___________^
Keep GO!NG
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{ There !s no L!FE w!thout ME }~
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Regrets? Hell yeah. But you don't die from regret. You may spaz and scream and squirm around in agony but you don't die.
i luv ur poems!!
^^
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what goes around comes around!
屠丽琼
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'Sitting on my favorite old oak tree,
I stare up, looking into the millions of neighboring stars, watching us, and yet to even know, we too, are watching'
Victoria (Me)
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Ive been living in a boundryless land. I was blind, but now Ive got my sight back...
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