Writing, Ideas, & Stories
Break down these straw walls,
warm hands craft and cold
demolition. Architect of
who I was, and the
catalyst of who I am now.
Your sweltering hands divide
the water around these walls.
Drawbridge was only a suggestion,
perfume worked my chains;
until
you walked right back in.
I believe in you,
like a child believes
in the tooth fairy.
Take three:
The night, the current,
strangled the life with
natures cuffs. The light of
Diana broke the silence,
She sat with her hands in his,
waiting for his lips to move.
White light covered his lids,
the future he envisioned,
and her cold hands looking
for a flare of warmth.
The white light crept into
a brief opening, than closed,
than opened like a revolving door.
The cool breeze stole the air
from his lungs and ripped them
to the stream and tied them
with bricks and chains.
He crept close, “You sure?”
Take four:
The knuckles drew life
red rushed rapidly round
his jaw. The knuckles
kissed the mandible and
a canine barked until reaching
the stage.
I saw Daisy covering her eyes
screaming at the red life
flowing around the
honored court.
Miscreant’s hands would never
lay his hands on a queen again.
On his queen,
crowns flew to the subjects below,
before the first dance.
It was easier to hide
behind women,
alcohol, and women.
Coward? Maybe.
It was easy though.
No one asked what was
behind the mask or the scars
underneath.
Coward? Maybe.
One day, it’ll come off.
I won’t be ready,
to feel the sun
against my skin.
She watched him
walk past the light post
that he passed
the very first night
after the movies.
The movie was
mediocre, popcorn
expensive, monopoly.
He forgot his jacket,
she held it closer
with each step into
the cold night.
Idle, motionless,
eyes burning from
the gentle breeze,
never left his heels.
I shared the bottom
with you.
We drank to the bottom
that night.
I’ll never forget
the bottom.
felt it
when you touched my hand
when you whispered in my ear
when you said my poems were good
when you smile in my general direction.
Maybe I was just in a lucky room
blue drapes around the rainbow carpet.
I like to believe it was because of me. Faulty
reasoning on a butcher’s knife two hams
away from a sandwich.
She’ll ask me later what that means.
I’ll tell her it was just so you
could talk to me for an hour or two.
Highway flying ninety-
five, stallions in the sky.
Wings of an angel
took the wheel. Didn’t
ask what kind she was.
Dropped dialogue, Dionysus
watched the Stallion
fly his last race. Shotgun
rested at the mercy
of the gods touch.
He looked through me,
the lights carried his eyes.
They met me at the barrel
of the tree. Covered in life,
tears in my eyes,
if only they were mine.
Started from inferior, we all did,
right?
Climbing superior like
aisle seven. Makeshift
titles, they’re real, eleven.
Cardinals fly, with their heart
on their sleeve, valiantly. Envious
of the wings to break the atmo-
sphere tonight, through the day,
to land on your shoulder
just one more time.
