Category: Creative Writing

salty sour

Words projected, ejected
As though you were unable to contain
The taste of fury, salty sour on your tongue —
good riddance, yes
get rid of your demons —
was it worth putting your
money where your mouth is
only to choke on the bitterness?

ours or theirs

Don’t make us cheerleaders
Don’t demand we look a certain way
Don’t have us wear a suit of patriarchy
Designed for ogling and locker room culture

Don’t demand from us
How we should dress
How we should behave
How we should talk
How we should pleasure
Or whom.

Grief’s Eternal Day

Once upon a time in a stainless-steel dream
Two famelicose smiles devoured a dead scream
Chewing on its gristle, hollowing out its dune
Crumbling stray cinders into a solid prune

In a withering wilting world upon a lyre
I smudged scorched faults with a disdain
That belied my quaking waffle’s refrain
Festering, blistering, seeping sputtering fire

100 Mile Road

I stumble across a fire opal in the middle of the highway and pick it up and there’s a honey-bee buzzing inside. The opal is the honey-bee. And as I hold the bee in my hand, all kinds of flowers and roses and honey pour out of it and the bee turns into a nightingale and bursts into song as the first star of evening pricks the lilac edge of the horizon.