Poetry

  1. How to Save A Life

    Anger, brother of fear I bid you hello Emerging self Climbing the same weary stairs Up and out of the basement Where you live. What did they do And why did they do it? When you’re in your body  You feel its pain, age, ache… Always the why An unending…

  2. Prufrock, Revisited

    When you open your eyes you’re dead  Prufrock is there The only Virgil you’ve ever known He extends his hand Welcomes you to the afterlife strangely identical to the room where you fell asleep  Offers you passage and a peach  Do you dare disturb the universe? No, the ever answer…

  3. It Never Ends

    I live in the past Never the present  Reacting to some other  Blow some other time  Not this  No place not home  But not in a good way The worst way where  You never leave  And you’re still there Covering your ears  At the top of the stairs  Waiting for…

  4. Out Of This

    How do I get out of this I’m sincerely asking  Where do I go Please tell me and I’ll do it this time  Really I’m not lying  I am genuinely surprised  when I look in the mirror My eyes fill with tears  that cloud my vision. I am becoming blind…

  5. Emptiness

    I look at you and recognize nothing  You are a stranger Your secret being that you don’t move  Don’t travel any orbit  You are the same today, tomorrow, and yesterday  and I haven’t stopped moving  Along my own trajectory Through you, past you, around you. You are still nothing I…

  6. Too Late

    Quit your job  Take the money and run  As far as you can get. I mean far away  Not this hour-distance dance  with proximity, she is a deceitful partner  Give me a cup of hot coffee please Something for this headache I got a pretty raw deal  Everyone says God…

  7. Sickness

    Sickness I will be a new threshing instrumentwith many sharp teeth.I will tear my enemies apart,making chaff of mountains.I will toss them into the air,And the wind will blow them all away;A whirlwind will scatter them.”        —Isaiah 41: 15-17 My father is…

  8. Season

    “Seasons are always changing. What season are you in?” I am in a season of “fuck you, you don’t can’t couldn’t possibly definitely don’t know me” so stop trying right there right where you are. Stop and don’t get any closer. I am a dragon swallowing my fire. I am…

  9. I Am

    Listen The birds are calling  Every song beckoning  Every chirp an invitation  To consider They do not drift to the past Or float along the seas to the future  They exist for this moment alone  Just this tiny offering  The sound of my footfall on the dry grass  The sun…

  10. Witness

    The tide is rolling in Sea foam bubbles like dish soap residue The waves look black not blue I wander and though the wind rages and I am cold  I am alive A maze of trees beckons me enter  flanked by holly, a garden gate.  I retreat I am not…

  11. Rape

    I learned to take my body back use it in ways you couldn’t wrap it in beautiful poses twisted instead of tied in horrible knots my insides dripping out onto the floor over and over again. 

  12. Too Much Again

    I keep a shard of glass tucked in the back of a drawer in case it all becomes  too much again.  (c) LSP Fine Art + Studio LeRoi

  13. Somewhere Far Away

    It’s the dog days of summer The crepe myrtles are in bloom  Shining their pinks to  Anyone who should care to look  Black-eyed Susans stare intently  At twilight’s last gleaming  It’s the blue hour Clear and mad and repeating The same song you’ve known Since the beginning Purple coneflower, butterfly…

  14. Survivor

    Sometimes when I look in the mirror I see my father’s body reflected back The same muscled arms Skin browned from summer sun Legs taut from constant activity  Restless soul walking the same earth Playing out the same story Generation after generation Stone upon stone. But not looking doesn’t have…

  15. Tiny Earthquakes

    I certainly hope you do not and will not meet your demise under a pile of books unless of course there’s an earthquake or many little earthquakes, tiny earthquakes shaking the tiny bit of ground they have because God damn it it’s theirs and what’s the point of living anyway…

  16. Tabula Rasa Then the Rest

    The secrets I carry are not my own They were glued to my body by my mother with Rubber Cement glue to match the cement galoshes weighing down the body  as it struggles to tread water in the ocean. Another wave crests and pushes our face our head under water.…

  17. Not the Story

    The lake, flowing freely like an infinity pool  bending back on itself curving figures, carving eights. It hypnotizes, swells when you consider: the depths, its depths, your depths. You plumb the depths with purpose probing and examining where you’ve been in order to draw a map to where you’re going.…

  18. Does the Camera Lie

    Does the camera lie or does it tell the whole fat ugly truth from soup to nuts then back to soup again? The camera tells the whole truth and nothing but the truth  so help us God close your eyes and close your gates Only neutral expressions welcome here people…

  19. Call It Love

    What is it like to only have one set of memories?  One point of view rising clearly above the rest?  I do not know the words for any of this  other than heartbreak, repeat The years pass and little changes The same abrasions, bruises bloom  The same blood bleeds anew,…

  20. Brookland Blues

    My bare feet hit the pavement of the sidewalk, hard, heart pounding, going somewhere, going nowhere? It’s cold. Below freezing in February. There’s glass all over the sidewalk, shattered like the squares of a crossword puzzle. The sudden pain in my lower back causes me to stumble, but there’s no…

  21. Seconds

    We share leftover spaghetti on the floor I spill sauce on my tights and beer on your rug. I apologize  but you shoo it away— the whole night is an apology for the body, the fugue of self-hatred  descending, the marriage of you and me and her. She hangs heavy…

  22. Whole

    Mom I love you. I’m sorry we don’t get along better. Why have you always been so far away? I need you. I need your kindness and affection. I need your encouragements and reassurances. I need you to tell me everything is okay and mean it. I need you to…

  23. Stephanie in Bloom

    The last time we were together you held me down, squeezed my wrists until purple roses bloomed. There’s only space to write about us in the margins now. The world has become more fractured, more confused. My grief is my art. My gift is my pain. I wrap it in…

  24. My Blackbird Heart

    mother i have been looking for you  in photographs from my childhood.  i see pictures of me alone aloof  almost secure.  look closer  i am contained, living inside the aviary you built  for my blackbird heart soaring only as high as you deemed  seeing the world from the bottom of…

  25. One Week in July

    Aujourd’hui, maman est morte — Albert Camus I. Forty Minutes to Goodbye You drive the familiar roads home but there’s nothing  familiar about them this time: home is a fleeting place.  You drive faster, wanting to put it all behind you  wake up 20 years later instead, not knowing the…

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