Creative Writing
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After we felt enoughto clog our eyes, to coverour skies withour shielding palms – we pull over these sheets.Closing a chapter,believing in nothing more,like birds of clipped wings. Like children without bread,to soon become anotherfor numerous dead.Like those helpless without answers,praying to a vast canvas,to watch God paint colorsdrenched like gleaming sicknessat their nailed feet.…
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Long notes. Senseless promises.We are a year too old,folding our scars in each other’s arms.A sunset, left upon lipsthat are dried in an absenceof what time had skipped.All those letters. Every tearwe dig up, we hand backlike feathers to a naked bird. Lost trail. Swayed eyesto another path outside ofeverything we cried after.Once to present…
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All those thornsdig deep, like shardsof reflectionsin an eternal hourglass.Someone’s lovewas once trappedin these blissful stainserupting from a church’s waters,in windows that were replicasof former erosions,of smoothness to palmspierced with nails for portraits,pierced with teeththat leave marks. Pureness in sickness,while life weeps in its defeat,fallen into armsthat keep a child silent.This love, leaking out froma…
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I came here to repeat wordsfrom a voice that tells its soulful song,from a muted bird. I came hereto see what will nevercome back to me.Like springtime jealousiesmourning over lossesof unshaped emptiness,of a white canvas,of a tabula rasa gifting opportunityfor all enslaved colors. You are a body’s lengthburied, in soil, unevenwith the heartbeat of mine…
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I live. Your streaming fingerstrace veins where should be scars,pass along scars where should beyour hollow kisses.I keep connecting youto those long pathwayswhere I deserted old photographs,where I left those notesthat described all your details.I want, though cannotbury you, again, in a heartmade to somehowkeep beating. You are cemented in corridors,added as each blockto build…
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I wanted torekindle a futility.I gravitated northto see my reflectionin muddled waters.I wanted to knowif aurorasever vanish. Puddles.Lakes.Perfumes from an ocean. Waves for departure,upon broken outlines of loss,drawn at an endless,tortured shoreline. No one needs to know.I keep bleeding these pleas,to remake futility. A hand that got away.Two feet that dipped lowlike a bucket full…
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Tell your soulto part ways.Drift on that pathlesshighway. Go nowhere.Filter a vacant light,somewhere. Fill your spaces,your voids of where I lastedwith repeated, defeated,endless toiling. Split your gaze,fork your tongue.Let your clouds disconnect,and disguise whatyou’ll always resurrect. I know you.I know that youwill cling to thin strands,like your hair that goes grayunder adjacent monochromeof another dismal…
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I have been holdingmore of your call. More ofwhat escapes than yourbonding words.Voiceless. Transparent. You’ve surrendered.We have remembered.We are thosedroplets filtered through,for stormy highways. Condensed meaning.Hurt from hail that turnsour skin from marbleinto rust, from rustinto blanketing dust. A bridge remains. It gets rebuilt,before we ever cancollapse into shadowed arms. Holding nearby light,like a dream…
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You pencil your tearsonto aging years.Love regresses into thosepages you will undress,leaving onlyfolded covers,surrounding your vulnerable,embittered shelter. Untie yourself.Tell a shadowits wholesome farewell.Pine over that wrong light,but find your eyesturning towardsan unhindered sight. Traced in a mirror,sculpted around me. Shapes once torn apart,asymmetrical amongshed tears, shed leavesfrom hands, from branchesonce hung low. Be here. Reach…
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I wanted salience,from your outheld radiance. Leaves grow in your stretches,falling to blanket me. Less to see can beall I want, in this moment,fatal within eternity. Your used up chances,with change uponyour scattering dances. I’ll sift through bleached watersto find you in reflected clouds. I’ll hold hope in a cup,hearing spring coming up. Your autumnal…
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Poem #1 Pull your Pale Flag Wide letters.We were holding on,while recognizing.Those shapes. These marks.They have stuck like glueto these gray hauntsin the washing blue. Worded. Remembered.Burning ships that tag along.Fated noosesthat hold up bottled necks. Stored messages for the sea.Stored letters that go unseen. Who shall hear our screams?Who shall worship our stars,put out…
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Here’s those petals,scattered. Clumps of graydispersed, in surrendering clouds,hanging low. I have rainedenough lines, to dressthem with letters of scorn.Burning shapes, wornwhile rolling in thunder,on these defeated shores. Here’s our facesdisplaced in a mirror.I see where you dance.Hear you, as youare weeping from bitternesscaught as lost dropletsin a worthless bottle.Are you this blue,floating on an…
Modern Romanticism 