Category Archives: Poetry

Bought a polka-dot dress just for you. Bought a polka-dot dress in body-cling blue. My pretty new dress just swings on its hanger While you go off dancin’ out past the bayou. You don’t call when you go out dancin’. Get no cell service when you’re out prancin’. but I wait all night for thatContinueContinue reading “Wire Dress-Hanger Blues”

I’ll be honest with you: I hate Jello. It’s over sugared liquid candy, drops of jiggled splatters don’t do a thing for my palate. It’s what I imagine plasma would feel like on my tongue– not liquid, not solid, just oozing masses of childhood flavors that taste like kindergarten and smell like a playdate withContinueContinue reading “For Mimi”

Last summer, I finally made a Sharon: 1 part insecurity 2 parts curiosity 1 part fierce wit shake until well blended with chilled optimism and strain over 1 part disaster 1 part organized insanity and 3 parts dumb loyalty Best served with grapefruit juice and lace cookies over a Gin Blossom soundtrack while wearing redContinueContinue reading “Recipe”

The stone man is not always made of stone not really– at first when night sand still lingers in his joints, capturing his bones in its nearly cemented seals, he is only crusted over but not still stone. As his movements increase with the height of the sun the sand deposits wash away the brittleContinueContinue reading “Poppy”

I am a master of emotional origami. I can fold myself in on top of myself over and over again becoming something new something unforeseen something beautiful something that makes other people stare with wonder and ask, “How’d she do that with just a bit of paper?” And I can take the basics, the simpleContinueContinue reading “Origami”

he’s never been in love with you before he’s never known the way you curl your body to the wall for comfort rather than to the other body in the bed he’s never seen your quiet days of near silence and barely audible insights where he won’t hear your voice and you retreat into yourContinueContinue reading “The Things They Don’t Tell You You’ll Worry About”

The problem with poetry is that it leaves no room.With poetry, there is no “to be continued” or next installment or even the most basic epilogue.With poetry, there is no bullshit no room for wiggle for hiding.The white space, just as important as the squiggled letters. In poetry, your split-second emotion posted, plastered on theContinueContinue reading “The Problem With Poetry”

I am not a feminist. Don’t get me wrong… I don’t walk ass out hanging tits on the town wondering why men don’t respect me or my Britney Spears “oh baby, baby” body. And I’m not about to lie down pregnant stand up clean move in cook dash out laundry rinse and repeat after rubbingContinueContinue reading “I am NOT a Feminist”