INTRO

I write poetry that sounds far too much like prose, prose that might really be poetry, and begin many many unfinished stories.

I largely write diary style, first person narrative fiction, but that’s not always the case. I haven’t quite decided, but I think the way I write is meant to feel read out loud.

Hopefully, eventually, I will have a website or blog entirely dedicated to all this, but for now here’s a small sampler of some of my shorter works below. I’m always open to feedback and discussion, feel free to contact me about anything you read (You can head on over to my contact page to reach me). I’m always grateful for any new prompts you may have for me as well!

“Wood, Wind, No Tube” (Joan Mitchell)

“Wood, Wind, No Tube” (Joan Mitchell)

 


Wind

I miss the wind that would shake-

That would tremor through the walls, rattling our windows.

Where we’d watch violent chaos shift the trees,

The song and dance of feral leaves

Whipping around at nothingness.

Hisses whistling through every crevice,

Shrieking round every pipe,

I miss the wind that sang me to sleep.

That chafed my lips roughly on dusty playgrounds,

That peevishly twisted and tangled my hair.

The breath that tore tears from my prickling eyes,

I miss the wind that brushed me by.

Strange Beams

there’s a pool of moonlight drowning my bed

and I alone, lay in it

no glasses blur an incomplete sphere that pulses, glistening to the tune of static crickets

An almost lazy leak seeps through closed shutters,

But the half-moon window above shines light through bright and true

I wonder what color my eyes are in the moonshine

I wonder if you already know

strange beams tangle my empty pillows, cut through lonely apathy

Silver soothes the soul, I can’t be less than silently calm


So here I lay alone again - fed by the strangeness of

an isolated pool of moonlight

left soaking in its glow

Conquest

Under flashing lights and throbbing beats,

You tell me you love my eyes.

You keep leaning in to touch me -

Your hand glued to the small of my back.

You compliment me in a way you think I want to hear.

You think my knowing smile means I want you,

That I’m inexplicably yours to tame.

I’ll let you buy me a drink.

The illusion of our little game is hidden to you,

While you see yourself a savior

lifting the spirits of an insecure girl,

I am hiding a mirthless laugh in my throat.

Hook, line, sinker.

You will flit feebly, man, blinded by your carnal fever

like a hungry gnat seduced into the maw of a Venus fly-trap

A truly fitting name -

The goddess of love takes no prisoners,

And you, pretty boy, are no exception.

You aren’t special because you called me beautiful,

And not for the way you grabbed my hand.

You have the nerve to think you’re the first,

You think I’ll melt for your shallow words.

You can’t win me, there won’t be affection in my eyes,

You will be left with nothing but a glimpse less than lust

For in your pursuit, you haven’t been watching carefully enough

And you, my dear, have just become my prey.


Look at me.

Fall in love with my eyes as I flicker them your way in the dark

Let my painted lips draw you in, and force the air from your chest.

Feel my tongue carve my name in your skin.

In the heated vibration of pumping music and smeared bodies, you lose.

You’re nothing more than another conquest, and you are unworthy.

I am something to be worshiped.

And you will pray for me.

Summer

chlorine soaked skin skids against warm summer hands

the sun’s newest kisses teach him

where to plant his lips - little scarred stars

dotting constellations through her cheeks

they sleep with the windows open

hazy warmth hanging thickly in the air

nothing but time, and nowhere to be

sliding bodies collide in bursts

of heat punctuated by stillness

and crickets chirping,

and wind caressing

wide-eyed pacts laced into walks down empty midnight streets

summer is sweet when you’re seventeen and in love.

Friday in the Park with 4:30 AM


We weren’t quite willing to part,
From our newly found company.
New names exchanged, smiles introduced
Proclaimed that four was far too early to go to bed.
With a night of dancing fresh in our legs,
And a knowing smile on her swollen lips,
I took her by the arm, to walk step in step.
Hand in hand.

So the park is our playground,
Nearly deserted at this hour
Save for rats and rare passerby
Sheltered by the dark and shadowy trees.

The park bench is ours,
And wet,
From earlier evening’s rain.
I was her buffer from the cold bench,
She was mine from the October air.
She draped her legs across mine,
“Let me be your blanket.”

She is so soft,
Liquid moans melting from her mouth like laughter
I kiss her-
Her lips soft on my tongue,
Her neck soft on my lips
Her sounds gentle in my ears
Short breaths hitching my own

Quiet giggles of sunshine
Deceptively innocent, as she tilts back her neck
Restraint’s reasoning falls away and
My hand slides up her thigh
She thaws into soft gasps as
She slides a hand to cup me

Our hair keeps tangling
Mine long and dark in her mouth
Her blonde strands wrapped in my fingers
Our lips refuse to be lonely

with flushes of heated blood
She kisses me
Harder
My fingers trail down her lap
to her center
warm
soft
Pleasure
rolls through her body
Her blue eyes shut in longing
breath pulsing out like a plea
no one can see us now

Ode to our Night Mother

The shimmering silence of stark night lit silky indigo,

Mother moon never fails to wash her children in calm.

Her believers, stargazers, dreamers, watch the skies,

For an omen, an answered prayer, a falling angel.

Artificial oranges and yellows may drown her out in cities,

But where the night expanse stains the world deep blue,

Away from the cars and the smog, in the pockets left untouched

Mother moon smiles down softly, and extends her pale hand.

Salt and Ash.

I want to pour out my being into the sand.

Let it sift deep through the grains, under the unforgiving chill, and settle in the cool darkness of soaked bedrock.

I want to fill my pores with gasoline.

Be drenched in fire, feel my body burn.

I want to watch my skin flake off in blackened plumes of smoke.

Let me dissipate into the air, watch as I crackle and glow.

Let my naked soul be eroded and roughed into nothing, let my ashes ride the waves in their endless ebb and flow.

Allow me to fade into nothingness,

Let me, I beg of you, set me free.