Tag: poetry is not dead

Lumberjack

He left
every morning with pine
needles in his beard.
Returned every evening
with sawdust in his pockets.

Body Politic

My body is a ballot initiative
My body is in committee.
My body is tabled for a later session.
My body is on the House floor.

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

Dear God of Nonexistent Things

You are the god that rules over unicorns, fairies, my literary career, and luck after all. How can I not believe in you?

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…

Dear God of 1984 Monte Carlos

We spoke in tongues. No one taught us sacrament so we invented our own. We ask thee in the name of thy son to bless and sanctify this spit. This sweat.

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…

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