Posts tagged: poem
A beautiful Saturday Rumpus Comic today: Water Sign by Yumi Sakuwaga. - therumpus
You are / more precious / than you will ever know
how it feels today
sixtyfivehundredinvisiblebirds:
Candles
I wish I had ideas.
I really need your help.
Pretend I’m your rabbit.
Your piano recital.
The ghost that makes you write
whatever you want.
Pretend I’m whatever you want.
I’m going to imagine you’re a woman
staring out a kitchen window
hands and face
covered in suds.
Here is my…
I run from the story that is faster than me,
the words shatter and pant to outchase me.
The story catches my heels when I turn
to love its hungry face, when I am willing
to be eaten to understand my fate.
Wasn’t flinching or furnace. Not mist
or down, not soft enough to settle on.
You were a nymph and I was an echo.
You, a letter and I, the lipstick.
I waited for you in the wrong skin.
The suitor: stuttering,
unsuitable.
old towne
the more you follow dirt road the steeper it opens down for you until – river. Around this bend and the huge dead old fallen – river. The pickup’s gone ass over – river. I am a shard of shale a pebble of sunward sediment a cloud of mud and moss taken with language making the longest way to the ocean but first the trees that wick the fur in the thirst but first the heat of insects but first we must visit every home but first every mouth every feed all hunger, look, river, I built you this drum. On it you will teach me a song.
My favorite Google poem.
fawn
come point at the numbers
before I hide them away in leaves :
come into the dream where
you have a split lip, little $ lapping at the ankles :
where you are a diptych of prose & bloodloss
shepherded across my tongue
by three lower order choristers :
today on waking I will buy 4 oz. bacon & one roll :
tomorrow a cabbage, apple, some nuts :
the next day two 24 oz. beercans
& I will write my book-of-songs entitled “juke”
& I will protect you, for this book is knit
from the bear I shot in the moss :
his words awakened & they’re in your hands now
& I give them to you, fawn
without knowing lust is disaster’s
good cousin, what flickers when the rest
has been burned down and blown
away?
wine poem
as grains of sand in a windstorm.
Not been myself lately. Been jumping rivers,
collecting knives. Collecting sedatives. Been fishing with my tongue
in the throats of men. Find dead things stashed between their teeth.
Poetry: “Thick as Thieves” by Emily O’Neill
You fall asleep in the middle of a party.
Not an invitation to most girls, but I buckle
under the weight of stillness. Hover. One stolen
moment given wings. Would’ve been easier keeping
sunlight on my tongue than not touch. You,
Puck spilling flowers into eyes. Call the beginning
apple core. Beneath that beard-softened jaw,
a clutch of teeth. You are still unbruised: what
the snake gave, the one I dream most often, doorway
in my sleep. A dare rises in our throats. I cast a girl off a cliff,
skin the neighbor’s cat, leave my scarf at the bar, handprints
on your car’s hood, fingers hooked in each buttonhole.So fucking good!
THAT’S ME!
It’s real!!! My poem, “Thick as Thieves” is live at Paper Darts today, along with the answers to these 5 pressing questions.
