Aug 19, 2014 / 1,091 notes
Aug 19, 2014 / 23,585 notes

here is the church and here is the steeple
do not feed the devotees -
the haunted the hungered
the great beasts
have taken over the big top.

here is the church and here is the steeple
do not entertain it -
the feeling is lethal
not to be outdone in voracity
they’ve eaten the fire eater and
devoured sword swallower
the captivated crowd in tent C

here is the church and here is the steeple
do not open the doors
the caged are the captors -
they’re staging a coup
they are keeping the ringkeeper
he feeds them pieces of his flesh
as appeasement

here is the church, and here the steeple
some things won’t be kept
the cathedral is seized
the chapel is captured
the great beasts
are scripting the homily.

- Ominous, Carniverous, Coup

(The St. Grace Press)

Aug 18, 2014 / 16 notes
I kept the flowers
which smelled like a wake until
they smelled like a corpse
let them keep me company
while I write
I’m keeping company
in mason jars where they wait
in suspended animation
with bated breath
I’ve been keeping
to myself,
sleeping in four hour stints
seeing shadows shift
in the periphery
But some things cannot keep.
Some mirages aren’t fictive.
I keep a yellow notebook of my dreams,
I wrote you in in black and white.
Some things cannot keep, leave only
paper trails behind.

- Keeps and Leaves

(The St. Grace Press)

Aug 16, 2014 / 4 notes
Aug 11, 2014 / 2 notes

eringeary said: i'm completely smitten by your words. i write too & i'd love to get feedback on some of the poems on my blog by someone like you. you have such an interesting mind.

Thank you! I can tell you’re a writer because even your compliments are distinctive. (Very non-generic, unlike how most compliments tend to be).

I’ve been reading and re-reading your poems - your writing is captivating as well. I’d love to provide more in-depth feedback, but since I have work this a.m., I’ll wait until this afternoon to give them their due.

(Also, I see you’ve published a book of your prose/poetry. How exciting & congratulations!) 



Aug 9, 2014 / 15 notes

Chinatown Serenade

This is -
a terra cotta skyline salute to Chinatown rooftops
a dusky knuckled cherry spittle kiss
blown to a dying summer

a red-rimmed raw stomach smile
from a porcelain bathroom,
a beatific umbrella 
settled over cobblestone stench -

linger too long, and you might melt 
into the cracks, 
a trodden on bubblegum stamp

solemn as sealing wax,
embellished by sneakers
mashed into the pristine envelope of 
yet another stolen summer.

We harbor
chrysalidae of doubt
our lips are mothlike
They’ve found
the withheld postscripts
of your conscience
We’ve left
behind old fictive constellations
and chalk outlines
campsites out of graves
of aspirations long forgotten.
All this time I’ve been
filling balloons ripe
with quiet desperation
I’ll cut the tethers soon -
two more to go.
Promise me to
hold me like an inhale
The fallout drifts like bubbles
yellow curtains, draw me close.

We’ve Passed the Eleventh Hour

St. Grace -

(via summerstas)

One of my favorite pieces. 

Jul 13, 2014 / 10 notes
Jul 11, 2014

Call It A Coup.

St Grace Poetry - 

Jul 11, 2014 / 2 notes

Short-Lived Monuments

This is:
my interim -
a dandelion monarch
willfully grasping
the last strands of
a fast-fleeting crown on
a trembling stem.
My one last possession
it teases -
I leave behind feeble murals
of shed hair on the shower wall
as tribute
to all that I’m losing.
A transient array of
a king in decay, of
a saint in disgrace, of
a reign unbegone and

the sun and fall leaves are
most vivid on the way out a
splendor hardly subtle
one ends with decay.
Jul 7, 2014 / 11 notes