Posts tagged with poetry

  1. Suddenly Stephanie

    No warning no discussion no sign. Suddenly Stephanie staring back  across time. Was she ready?  Were you?  Le double vie… Yet here we find ourselves I was not ready, but I’m not angry. Image in collaboration with Dan Lidon, 4x5 film

  2. Goodbye

    I bid in you adieux,
farewell, neverender pain-spring well source The pain swells suddenly Stephanie
poetry instead of wine purging people instead of facing realities -a bridge across time back to those days  you wish it wasn’tthat you weren’t but you are, and it’s yours to kill or love or…

  3. 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…

  4. 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…

  5. 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

  6. 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…

  7. 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…

  8. 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…

  9. 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.…

  10. 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.…

  11. 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…

  12. American Sunrise

    The things we do in secret to prepare for the Apocalypse  I have always known the ending carry the same evil inside my body injected by my ______’s penis five or six years old the same evil Uncle Sam is pumping into your children  I demand awakening through the  gateway…

  13. Heaven is Blurry

    Heaven is blurrylike the window far off in the porcelain’s reflection  promises of peace like the beat of your heart  murmuring its song in my ear lulling the body back to life.

  14. A Living Sacrifice

    You asked whether All the king’s horses And all the king’s men Could ever put Stephanie back together again Sometimes that’s the point of healing And sometimes it’s not Every system is different They say I run a boarding house for divergent emotions  Inside my body No matches, sharps, or…

  15. A Woman’s Body

    you think it will never happen again you step off the shore you are vanishing while around you the darkness coming down a woman’s body called spring floating around in the darkness your soul won’t listen so you relax  you don’t fight it anymore your throat swells as it beats…

  16. Experience

    to begin again this time knowing what we do now a quiet hope shards of light in Mason jars playing childhood playing June the scream always dying in your throat when nights were long lying at the top of the stairs listening for it to be over and then  Portrait

  17. But You Don’t

    for Christmasyou can have a raincheckan IOU for the things we’d doif you felt anything at all for me. Portrait credit: Nelson Jaimes

  18. A Spinning Wheel

    Sometimes it doesn’t matter what you’ve done, what you didn’t do, what you look like, what age you are, any of it. Nothing matters at all. You have no control. Your parents don’t love you. No one loves you, not the actual you, the scared child, the terrified adult. The…

  19. Placeholder

    Only the wrens dare get close
land on the table
puff out their chests
observe and flit
flit and observe  Their activity contrasts your lethargy
soaking up the slanted rays of the
 Autumn sun
different than before.  You are here now like you were then
only you guess at the…

  20. Soul Moves West Upon Death of Body

    “In Abenaki tradition, souls move west upon the death of the body.” You used to dream, big open spaces and the mountains stretching out forever. The west. Always the west. It was your first love. Where you got married. The ocean, blue expanse, the cliffs and switchbacks, Redwoods reaching high…

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