Monthly Archives: August 2014


This is just specks I tackle in dilation Until my eye lashes fly. They carve my cheeks To assure me Of whats underneath. And I can see before touch But I can not see past touch. Anticipation is being rapid– … Continue reading

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As Robyn

I live in brittle bones’ cage built of sage & his sibylline crystal– This flutter feels sinful. Pinched within weight, choke me by chain– We pulse by sweat beads beat in sweet ornate dew drooled over my chest.. His is … Continue reading

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hollow breath of prairie’s

butterfly me open. my ribs will crack gradience into            oblivion. flesh will fall in polite immure over stems f r a c t u r e d. and i am feeble thistles. wildfire: hold me in summertimes, hold my … Continue reading

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as we dim

take me in bites. take me in bites. overwrite           me–           you are memory. teeth grind for florescence– i am white. no, i am errored. i am flushed for innocence: such rush feeds my senses until pure binary blackens this lives … Continue reading

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The philosophy of Santa

The crickets know my first name sdrawkcab|||backwards and annunciate in puzzles so the night is far less dim to my senses. Our pieces shade contrast. We break-even in consequence, my answers whisper for irrelevance as joy sleighs in the sky. … Continue reading

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pin me past the seasons. my chest hums out, my jaw reacted because of weeks heavy against confession. that prick felt sharper made by yellow’s reflection restored in our familiar skies. sun is sometimes but always.. paired, we are similar … Continue reading

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i feel least

and nothing’s changed, changes overcome— me— still longing for meanings unknown, or at least misunderstood.

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break down. result impressionable, peaked– i refluxed. i entered here before choice cumbered as so. and such, i am motion. i feature as posture over blades of light…

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find a penny, pick it up

i snub at the fact that you saw us breaching over vertical crowds. he’s now rubbing pennies together for coppers infertility; a treatment to inspiration, for inspiration                                         –lost– on the streets, on sidewalks, on clayed pathways riding under our feet … Continue reading

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tumble weed

that is my pride you took, my bones you rattled to crisp burnt sienna– a hue of distraction. repulsion for such twists of auburn, curls disregarded and tumbled for weeds. now i brush in dust that you have woven and … Continue reading

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