I don’t want to just hook up, but, you know, I’m not looking for anything serious.
Tag: Poet
Life in Reverse
It would begin with a mortician
pulling us out of our coffins
and end with a doctor shoving us
feet first into our mother’s vaginas
America
America,
I have heard so much
about this “dream,”
why do you keep dreaming?
when will you wake up?
Dear God of Glitter.
Please rain down upon me in all of your sparkling majesty and glory, your brief, momentary flashes of the visible light spectrum, your shiny shining like sugar for my eyes. I pray you make everything fabulous…
Motivation Monday: How to Meditate for Success
To meditate, start by stopping. Open yourself into the expanse of the universe. How it rolls on into nothingness and the nothingness rolls on into further expanses. Understand the vastness. Become the vastness.
For Nick
You turned into light.
That’s the only explanation.
Your body turned into vibrations.
I can’t see you because
you are everywhere now.
As your body lets go
of every atom
you dance into our dark.
This is How Much I Love You
I want to tuck myself into clouds. Float over the terrain, fall all over you in thunderbursts, soak your clothes, ruin your hair. I am devastated at the sight of your umbrella. You still jump into every puddle. I want to bake myself into your favorite pastry. Present it to you. Watch you eagerly pick…
Break/fast.
I try to feed her my dreams.
Here is a melting blue guitar.
Here is an ocean in the shape of a house.
Here is a train made out of swingsets.
She devours them. Licks the plate clean.
But she wants more.
NaCl: Performance Poem of the Week
R.J. Wright: Dyslexia What works in this piece: Opens with some light humor that he knows the audience will appreciate (“Words are really hard. Just ask any three-year-old…or Donald Trump”) Incorporates elements of dyslexia into the poem/performance reflects content, adding depth the piece as a whole Creates a performance (temporal) out of a disorder…
Garbage
Moving box receipts for
Yesterday.
Today.
Tomorrow.
NaPoMo 1/30
Break/fast Morning. She tells me she is hungry. I present my empty hands outstretched palms up to show her all that I had to offer. This isn’t enough for someone who dry swallows tornadoes without even blinking. I try to feed her my dreams. Here is a melting blue guitar. Here is an ocean…
NaCL: Salt City Slam Genesis Bout – God
The third part of the Salt City Slam Genesis Bout: God This piece was written and performed by me, Gray. It would be arrogant of me to do a deep mine of this piece, since it’s my own piece. I’ll just note a couple things: I started the piece with “Dear Children,” to echo how…
graypoetry 