Category: Poetry

sometimes words do not have the expanse to fit the truth they’re trying to hold i am an apostate i am not the first the streetlights that dimly guide my way are lit by the souls of those who went before the furtive glow and the long shadows belie the keening inside their bulbs behind…

the first time i saw a naked female breast i was ten years old or so i had thrown a dictionary at a girl’s head in third grade although i don’t remember that (a piece of paper i found years later said it so it must be true) i was labeled ‘emotionally impaired’ which nobody…

i dreamed a car crash, and my fingers burned with the sensate nothing that seared over me i could not scream because i had lost the right, and as the world melted around me torn and shorn in glass, metal, rubber burning in black flame and circling overhead then into my lungs i thought for…

sometimes i feel like tearing my chest wiiiiiide open because that way you could see my soul gasping in the great expanse sometimes i feel like staring into the sun and speaking out in the tongue in which it speaks to me sometimes i want to scream until i cough up blood and phlegm so…

My story began before I did, Written on leather and linen, Papyrus and stone. I was born in the taint of the oppressor Stained white with a fabricated purity Invented by men Then forced into the mouth of God My story was hammered into drying clay Like pigeons’ feet Dancing Across the centuries. My myths…

i did not dream so deeply as i did that night, when beneath the cloudless sky, the moon perched within the chill of air, an ocean dotted with infinities of stars sleep came ragged, but the dreams washed over me and pulled me deep into their undercurrent dreams of my childhood, drenched in clarity, picked…

Two circles surrounding a squareWas more than the poor thing could bearIt made itself fetal‘Til planar was hedralCylindrical nets are a snare! Isometry! Great celebration!But tragedy followed elation,When off of the gridThe image got slid.The pre-image, lost in translation. A circle can hardly affordTo argue with segments, good Lord!When a disc meets a lineIt is…

I am yet over rocky cliffs, briefly divining strengths — reluctance devouring temporal madness amidst hours with the id: I. — ptkh 011217

the smell of salt in the air the creaking of the rope as it’s stretched taut the burn of it cutting into the hands the rocking of the ship the sound of seagulls in the distance the heat of the sun on the skin the slapping of the water on the side there in the…

my friend is back sitting on my shoulder whispering in my ear telling me how pointless it all is how i’m talking to an empty room singing with a vacant orchestra shouting across the chasm at nobody   when i turn to tell him to shut his mouth he disappears and i am at last…