Stories
Poetry
With a hammer well aimed, try to destroy the whole with a single blow.
Poetry
The poem I can’t yet write saves itself for when it can’t be avoided.
Poetry
Let’s walk down to the river, bless the paper boats and turn it all into wine.
Poetry
Men are so delicate, must be given many portals. I try to be game.
Poetry
My soul is simple; it doesn’t think. Something strange paces there now.
Poetry
My lust works like the tides pulling in reverse, controlled by a simple ballast.
Poetry
Condemned to an easy life balanced on the suffering in another land.
Poetry
I love it—watching gray light bleed out over the makeshift bed on the floor.
Poetry
The pen is mightier than the sword in the fretwork of a poet’s language.
Poetry
The urge to be a tiny bird upon a tiny limb, maybe a bridled titmouse.
Poetry
She regarded the world calmly without the filter of her suffering.
Poetry
Think how you move, how a room changes with your smallest breath.
Poetry
All the bears in the zoo look pathetic. Their eyes glazed, bodies lethargic.
Poem of the Week
But we do despise beauty. We connect it with softness and immortality.
Poem of the Week
I saw a bat in a dream and then later that week I saw a real bat.
Poem of the Week
The shorebirds bank toward the west at once—flashing too fast.
Poetry
I know which home takes the turning, which mind washes in hot water.
Poem of the Week
Here: geeky cyber-warriors crunch cheese Cheetos over keyboards.
Poetry
I awakened on my belly—my back a raw field from nape to heels.
Narrative High School Writing Contest
I keep hearing water sprites chattering, breathing.
Poem of the Week
My mother’s house was packed, painted, put up for sale—sold.
Poem of the Week
Bend with apples the moss’d cottage-trees, and fill all fruit with ripeness.
Poetry
They cut you off, let fall your hammered silver bracelets to the sand.
