poetry

All posts tagged poetry

and in the spring she becomes a giant lung

Published May 6, 2013 by pipsqueak

expanding with a gasp, gulping in the fresh air
she unfolded herself and allowed herself to breathe
she is aerated, the yellow sunlight glowing through
her skin, illuminating that soft shadow of her bones
and the trails the mice gnawed through her
during the stiffling winter, when she was packed away
in moldering cardboard boxes in a musty basement
but now her thread-veins, which doodle through her flesh
like the roots of slender-stemmed violets.
they pump as lively quick as a baby bird heart.

Envy

Published April 24, 2013 by pipsqueak

i understand the sorrow of the solemn, round-faced teenage girl
who wears long denim skirts on Fridays with her sisters
and reads the dusty words of the Brönte sisters
she frowns upon her drunken, asinine peers – the fools!
but secretly she craves the flare, the fire of that brash athlete
who tramples and roars with his brash athlete cronies
he goes home and slumps on the side of his bed
blank, deflated of all movement
where the framework of approval is lost
in this boneless aloneness, he will certainly covet
the independence from the crack pipe of popularity
possessed by the pink-haired student
who talks back, snorts, flips the bird
and carves knotty roots upon his desk with a ballpoint
when his classmates call him a queer
but he is not free either. he sees me and wishes for
my goofiness, my guileless and earnest greetings
i’m like a fat pound cake, preserved and pre-packaged
so you can fully enjoy each moist tender morsel

now i envy no-one more than the petrified redwood
whose bark tears up the insides of the insects who bite it

on re-meeting that child i babysat a year ago

Published April 23, 2013 by pipsqueak

the round eyes of this mini-monk,

fringed with the pale-blonde lashes of the very young,

regard me calmly

he was bouncing, boisterous, when i saw him last

and now he carries his ten years

on his small knobby shoulders

like the robe of a scholar prince

and seems taken aback at my manic pleasure

at seeing him ask polite questions, a tiny gentle man

he couldn’t see the change, he is change incarnate

i ask him if he still plays with legos

and i think he’s annoyed at the bittersweet poignancy i attach to this question

“yeah, but don’t seem so sad about it, so do you”

restless girlfriends

Published April 22, 2013 by pipsqueak

we recognized in each other the liquid darkness

that beaded like mercury behind the black of our eyes

appalled by the glaring muchness of the world

we shrank back to a den, whispered dark ideas into each other’s ears

there is no rest in this world, not even in your thin arms

my black lace sleeve netted over fishbelly wrist

trading nausea through kisses

teeth chattering in anorexic mouthes

wide eyed, never falling asleep

enemies and friends

Published April 18, 2013 by pipsqueak

my enemy is the sucking giant hole of apathy
i will sometimes crumble into
when i am too lacerated by shrapnel of the world
to fathom pulling myself from my cocoon of  sheets

when i read Google news
sadness slithers into me like heavy syrup
and bogs me down until i cannot move
the world is broken, why should i survive?

the answer is lies with my closest friends, who are:
the soft palms of the boy at the punk show
the femme fatale kiss of coffee
my best friend moaning about cinnamon popcorn
the chatter of those lovable assholes i hang out with

we pile damp twigs of discontentment
make sparks with hormones and rusty old lights
we shout as they wither and burst into flame

can poems change anything?

Published April 15, 2013 by pipsqueak

poem, i thought you were here for “closure”
what is that? it’s nothing i’ve known to happen
and liquid memories trickle through the seams
of the cardboard boxes in the attic of my mind

they cannot hold the gentle one i let wander too far in
even though i saw the thrash of agony in her
i didn’t know that she would grow so wrathful
and she barreled right through my ribs

and the fingerprints fade, but i can’t forget
the lattice of overwrought bruises
that we slapped on each other, plastering pains on pains
instead of making the slow choice to be gentle

worse than the slow-burn of pain, the flash of joy:
now i have ceded the authority of my reality
to those who have never learned my secrets,
not trusting the erratic flap of my own
butterfly-wing mind

put it down, let it go

Published April 7, 2013 by pipsqueak

maybe your voice was a sonic boom that shuddered my insides
the tiny quirks of your fingers traced sparks on my skin
and the contours of your mind were my favorite maze

maybe so, darling, but since then
i have yanked off the tablecloth, broke the bone china
you were so sad about the stains!

now my ears ring with the cacophony of breaking
we tiptoe backwards, crumbling away, stumbling over debris
and shouting apologies into the middle distance