Monthly Archives: January 2017

Haiku on Loneliness

I

dear wheel of a bike,

I’m the gum on the pavement-

stuck to your movement.

 

II

forward is too far

when backwards is so simple.

a tape, rewinding

 

III

isolation is

a ray of light on the grass

in an empty park

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My Brain is My Womb

we met with my eyes closed, 

rolled into the back of my head,

awaiting the exorcist of adulthood.

you, veiled in a black sheet of stars 

were a bitter child of mine.

subconscious and clay skinned,

my childish fingers formed each blurred limb of your gnarled falsity.

I collected earthworms and quartz crystals and cut into them to draw out

the truth of innocence

on an impossibly bright playground.

all the while you shaped me into a bruise 

that covered even the ground I stepped upon.

the dirt that collected between my toes was a memory 

that I was filthy and would never let go.




 

Agora

grain of wood creates waves around my carpet,

a multicolored coastline

with it’s frayed edges, concealing mollusks and dog hair.

to follow the natural flow of the patterns

is to step back in time, or through the door

that separates living and loving.

tracing my fingers over them,

splinters collecting in my sensitivity,

realizing it’s not an ocean at all.

if it was, I would never leave the safety of my bed.

you can’t pay for an ocean but you can pay

for the Earth,

with it’s supplies that it kindly deals out to you.

no hidden motive except in your own humanity.

though,

bartering may be safer than buying.