The Heart
I. The Madness I’m not strumming along for your sympathy. Cow bells rattle in my ears. Please, do not listen to them. I should have...
Look
The trees wave at me When I'm not looking, And the clouds open When I can't see. And the light flickers The less I breathe. I hear the...
snow
“i’ve never seen snow” she tells me i tell her “it’s like dandruff falling from an overused brush, tossed aside” she says “that’s very...
Zeniths
"What do you do with the mad you feel?" Mister Rogers asked I split cinders in fists Grimace at my mental pulchritude I wear the arms...
Marboro Reds
I had just filled my head with cement, grey and cracked already under the pressure of, “Please, please, my parents are asleep— Don’t...
Her
I could write a poem about daffodils. I could. I could write a stupid poem about daffodils. And it would be sad and heart-string-pulling...
Fugue
Doctors said she was the owner of problematic post-synaptic endings, she heard layered noises—birds pecking at tree bark, and picking...