Archive for the ‘ self-referential ’ Category

Swallowing the City Again

The train rides past cement arms, arches under bridges under cars like empty door-frames. Floating landscapes roll through stone hands as if time is tearing canvas from paint. Then empty boxes– trucks jut from one-eyed warehouses, windows broken or shaded in dirt making stained glass the way rubble makes a mosaic. The meadowlands are still [ READ MORE ]

Matterknot

These fluttering chapbook pages shriek, “Look at me, look at Trees thrust up through this hole that was broken into womanhood like a board stiff ground and grass seams snapped in half. Nothing gushes out not even blood or the grabbing hands birthing limbs. of a brother, baby son, just wood crackling, Not shocking. Wordless wind. [ READ MORE ]

Kidney

I am the blink the mirror doesn’t see. You are my companion- shipwrecked in a bathtub or a kitchen sink. Water, don’t cauterize me. I stare at you, then back at the bathroom tile. Like looking at the sun, patterns never appear. I trick myself into intoxication. Making indelible inkdots on my brain? Outsmoke me [ READ MORE ]

Crib Death

You are dependent. An addict unfixed but still stuck, expectant. Obsessed with knowing yourself is so close to knowing. You think “As long as I have eyes, I can smile, face the world with open windows.” But beauty is not happiness– Try to see this. Think you can save yourself from high school? Tie your [ READ MORE ]

Ode to the Unspeakable

There is blankness and then there is the difference between it and the edge of a line, where black encounters white and shadows with nothing to stand behind begin to outstretch across the blank lines of a growing poem. The words all might reveal themselves in the first flickering of pen in hand, but it [ READ MORE ]

Empty

The way I reflect on things you’d think the world was hiding something deep inside it. But the secret is that my mind is a liar, and that even as I am writing this, it is[ READ MORE ]

A Reflection on Writing and Existence

In the beginning there was god. God was everything. He divided himself into light and shadow and air and water and water and land and so on and so on. Some of the pieces could see the other pieces and give them different names, but they could not see god. Some thought god was another [ READ MORE ]

Is

1. I hear music in my head. The pen throws itself at me– Don’t you want to be beautiful? 2. A cat needles its pounding head. It can turn water into milk but the puddles churn into butter. * Remember your mother, and the taste of what is; not sought. 3. When I am quiet, [ READ MORE ]

The Fall

It feels as if this must be the season for writers *** Color rips through the pale backdrop – beauty inked into a blank page A thin coat of paint over quiet fear – the inevitable fade Its name – The Fall – says something about the first wilting of The Garden where Man is [ READ MORE ]

Restraint

I could write poems about where it is okay for me to kiss you[ READ MORE ]

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