Focusing on the
of convergence, standing in the hall
Burning me so wonderfully
Smell of smoke, and the attention comes
Men in white coats, so dutiful
Please don't put out the fire-
Dead Man's BellsKnock-Knock, greeting a dead man,
Offer him some tea.
Cup, saucer, brew
floral heart medicine,
a dose- times three.
Dead Man's Bells
ring up the walk,
and he's almost finished the cup-
We just drink and talk.
FlashlightsI run on the line, the straight line
Between the metal boxes
Filled with Things
Run, run, on the dotted line
Flashlights, explosions, silence
Fifty HorsesWe set out today.
Fifty men and fifty horses
Each a member of the armed forces.
We marched through the rain,
We marched under the sun,
at times it almost seemed like fun.
Supplies ran low-
We didn't care-
We were nearly there.
When a tree re-appeared,
Spirits began to sink.
And they disappeared- naught to drink.
When we were almost there-
We met our foe.
But we couldn't even strike a blow.
So here lies fifty men and fifty horses.
Each a brave member-
Of the armed forces.
BoulderI am a knife.
without a handle- a grip-
i slice at the Truth
speeding merrily through spiderwebs
Until a boulder blocks the path.
it laughs-Silly knife!
I am too big.
Ha Ha! I am too big! I am too-
ThunderingToes kiss the ground
to the unknown-
the Big Lie thundering
in my head
cupping me gently
over the madhouse
I'm so happyLook at the moon
its half full
Reflecting the low tide
It drains my face
Making me a model
I'm so happy.
My feet squish
the salty sand
A temporary imprint
On the earth
Laying down on the bed-
I'm so happy I could die.
Cause theyre afraid of thunder.
I need a partner
To swing from,
And I want her.
I'm a wolf in wool
On the dance floor.
CandlesI've set out candles
Rose petals and romantic stuff on the bed-
You love me too
Im still often in love with you.
it doesn't matter
to you or me or him or her or them
or the flowers dying
beneath my window
i'll dream or not,
just rest within the darkness
behind my eyelids
let the spiders crawl across my skin
and cast their webs in the caves
of my collarbones
pool water into my lungs
and build a pond for koi fish
that slither through my throat like serpents
when i try to talk
in my sleep
but mummer only incoherent wisps of dandelion
that evaporate in the rain
thrashing outside the door
leave me like a ship washed up onshore;
graves within my soul
and souls within my veins
ghosts pumping through my heart
put a rose in my hands and let the thorns prick my thumb
i'll bleed until my skin is violet
and the bags beneath my eyes are gray
the walls will hug me years from now
when this room has fallen in
and all my books have flown away
to nest in sparrow beds
they'll save themselves
and the batteries in the clock
read this when you're so angry you shakelittle drops of oil make rainbows on wet concrete
and i don’t know how beautiful you find that,
but sometimes you gotta learn that
the littlest things are the prettiest,
like the shape of your fingernails and the crinkles
you get at the corner of your eyes when you laugh and
when you grow old and i know i said “grow old”
like it’s a temporary thing, but that’s because it is.
you can think it’s forever but it’s really
a split second because you don’t matter, not when
the universe is still growing and speeding through a nothingness
we can’t even fathom, not when color doesn’t exist in space
but nebulas still explode in shades of gold and green,
not when there are stars who die
before their light ever touches our faces. you don’t matter,
not to anyone but the people who have fallen in love
with the way you walk and the way you breathe
and the way you keep doing both.
i don’t care that the universe is spinning and grow
Depression is an OptionDepression is a choice, my dear,
And happiness the same
You choose this illness, don’t you?
What a tragic little game.
Depression is an option, love
Just get up out of bed
Take your tears and worries
And just smile now instead.
Depression is a choice, you see,
And so is suicide.
Just sit back, kick your feet up, dear
Enjoy this perfect ride.
Get over your own standards
Of what everyone should be.
Just smile for once, and maybe
You’ll be living perfectly.
Depression is an illness
That we feel so deep within.
Why would anybody choose
To write poetry on their skin?
Unless there lies a reason, dear,
I would not choose to die.
If depression was an option...
I’d choose to say goodbye.
This is not a poem (the world is broken)This is not a poem because this
is for the hollow-eyed teens
stubbed out and stamped on
by society like the cigarettes
they hold in pale fingers as they
try to laugh the pain away but
never entirely succeed.
This is not a poem because this
Is the silent cry of the rapist’s victim
As they look into the mirror and a
Thousand ugly words and screams
And pleadings echo back from the
Dark alleyway and all they think is
This is not a poem because this
Is for the boy told he cannot cry, because
It’s a weakness to ‘act like a girl’
And this is for the short-haired
Girl told it’s not her place
To ‘act like a boy,’ because
Even though it’s 2015 we
Haven’t moved past destructive
Gender roles yet.
And this is not a poem because
There isn’t a pretty way to talk
About children in abusive homes,
Partners attacked by their
Beloved other half and this is for
For the families going through divorce,
For the families missing a p
an open letter to my twelve year old selfone day you will cut all your hair off,
and hang up a map of the world in your
room and you will look at it on days
you think your life is going nowhere.
i hate to tell you this, but this isn’t
your worst year. it also isn’t your
one day you will cut all your hair off
and realize that some poems need to be read
out loud, to an audience, so you’ll take a hammer
and some nails and build yourself one
out of a girl whose veins look fragile but
whose bones are strong, a boy who isn’t as tall as
he thinks he is, but whose lifelines are the deepest
you’ve ever seen, and a girl whose eyes remind you of the
east coast shore.
one day you will cut all your hair off,
and learn that you can like pink
just as much as you like blue
and the world will not fall apart
along its fault lines. there are other flags
you can wave with pride that
one day you will cut all your hair off
and figure out how to forgive yourself,
figure out how to sta
a list of things colleges don't want to know1. i have a cactus named atticus that i bought
on the day i thought i was going to die,
and i never forget to water it, not
even when i forget how it feels
to breathe without my lungs rebelling
against my brain.
2. sometimes talking feels like walking on gravel
in a Georgian summer heat.
i try to keep talking anyway,
and hope that eventually
my voice will lose its softness and grow calluses.
3. once, a man whistled at me
outside of a grocery store from
the safety of his car.
four years later, i still haven’t stopped looking
over my shoulder.
4. i drive too fast and i take turns too sharply
and i never put enough sugar
in my tea and i could probably survive
on watermelon alone. i’m left handed
and once taught myself to write only in capital
letters to piss off my seventh grade english teacher.
5. i have never felt closer to my father
than when we stayed
outside till two a.m. in november and watched
a meteor shower.
6. there are some things
i don’t think i’ll ever