Tagged: poem

this is what we made.


Where I come from there are no
There is the ground and the sky
our feet and our hands.

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Credit: Brennan Massicotte

Credit: Brennan Massicotte


She’s calmer now. The winter Sun is setting.

           The edges of her voice have dulled


           her eyes are still swift, snowy blue

           blossomed into summer skies.


She is august now. Slow,

heavy as the air. Mellow,

the Moon easing in her hammock.

The Disappearing Woman


Watch my arms reach they are
taffy ropes pulling always pulling
thinner thinnest

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She reached across and stuck the needle in

didn’t feel around for the vein

didn’t stop

to see

if it hurt.


The plunger went down, Continue reading


 there were days when the night didn’t end

didn’t break apart with the alarm

just laid on the floor beside yesterday’s clothes.


there were mornings that stayed night

trapped in the sheets, still cold from the night before

flat, dark in front of the sun between the blinds.


there were days when the morning and night dissolved together

pills and water, take one at bedtime every night

stomach cranking time to the hours between 12 and 12.

Blackberry Eyes

You were beside me when I woke.


Your eyes reflecting the dark


except that you moved.


I was frozen hot, dripping

with fear, your dry brush legs

tightened like a fist

at my breaths, your body tenses –

We stop.


Outside the curtains the Moon

is busy, watching

something rattle through the trash.


When you leave, (finally, you leave)

you move like liquid poured

down a dry wall.

All eight legs and eyes

releasing me as you dribble down

into the black,

invisible except that you moved.