Category: Poetry

  • Nobody knows what you must do

    Nobody knows what you must doNot even the dogs who settle for crumbs know what you must doSome benefit from your loss, Others are left behind teddy bears One cracks the edge of a wine glass with their teethAnother plucks a lit cigarette from the mouth of an exileOne pilgrimages to graves to arrange their…

  • A wound will always seem to find you, an answer is coming.

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    My princes, My boyhood friends, Do you still remember the sun sickness in the pit of our empty stomachs? The frozen vegetables cooling our wounds, while we watched the final summer sunsets outline our tree house kingdoms shadowing bruised hips with a kiss of the headache cool water fountain bubbling across our squinting. The crown…

  • green shall spread over all

    But green is the color of earth, of living things, of life. And of rot. We deck our halls with it and dye our linens. But should it come creeping up the cobbles, we scrub it out, fast as we can. When it blooms beneath our skin, we bleed it out. And when we, together…