My Calling |
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Posted by on Mon, 06 Apr 2009 18:24:00 GMT |
robot |
absinthe tears trace my face like a barbed wire fence. I'm coughing colors, just like The Tilly And The Wall, but it's rust. blood. This robot has extinguished all of its uses for now. emotionally voi...
Posted by on Thu, 26 Mar 2009 17:57:00 GMT |
I Believe In Empathy. |
I believe in the kind of empathy that is created through imagination and through intimate, personal relationships. I am a writer and a teacher, so much of my time is spent interpreting stories and con...
Posted by on Sat, 07 Mar 2009 02:11:00 GMT |
My imaginary scenario of a horrendous crime committed against my sister. |
Drenched in saccharine sweat, there are atomic glares and goulish scowlsetched on the concrete faces of spiteful and unconcerned onlookers in apublic shopping mall. You are my Elizabeth Bathory, and I...
Posted by on Wed, 04 Mar 2009 17:30:00 GMT |
honey dripping beehive |
My heart is a shredded, tattered, mutilated pin cushion of an organ. I swell with emotion. These precious souls in the hands of people who cannot see. They don't even try.I love the riddles.The soft s...
Posted by on Fri, 06 Feb 2009 23:29:00 GMT |
Fingerprints |
Fingerprintsare the distinguishing trademarks of people.Would you burn yours to become yourself, &nb
sp; Untethered?There is so much light in this w...
Posted by on Wed, 07 Jan 2009 17:04:00 GMT |
mind scrapes n bruises |
A symphony of sound scrapes the interior of my ears. I'm a byproduct, a miscreant, the reproductive organs of a shameful society. Manufacturer of sadness. Frenetic fingertips, my mouth is Pandora's bo...
Posted by on Mon, 17 Nov 2008 20:41:00 GMT |
Girl, Seeming To Disappear |
Francesca Woodman's work presents femaleness without satire or an agenda by Peter Davison..tr> grew up in Boulder, Colorado, but seldom returned after my adolescence. In the mid-1970s I found a way ...
Posted by on Mon, 17 Nov 2008 22:08:00 GMT |
specks |
of dust and dismal dawn crowd the introspect of my cranium. Coercing my eyelids to croon at the moon of the mayhem of my labyrinthine mind. Winter's nonchalance echoes throughout...
Posted by on Mon, 13 Oct 2008 06:06:00 GMT |
The Gardener |
"Sorry for the setback I know i let you down Turn back the clocks and step back And spring might come around..."The bones of our ancestors crumble beneath the brute force of these fallible phalanges. ...
Posted by on Sat, 20 Sep 2008 10:06:00 GMT |
