wind’s been through
my revolution wears dirt like lipstick and god d|ess the blood is gorgeous if you'd just get close enough to taste my scrapes under gauze & plaster I fell on the ice again in practical shoes I'm not authentic — just clumsier than you gagamama gold your shoes while I scrape mud from soles we made you my boobs are deadly too suffocation instead of flame I don't need to be a cyborg but I am playing one in bed to be ugly to be human, barely to be grotesque how often must I cut my hair to repair split ends into artifice? once you're heeled you can't control falling more than my feet can change the snow
Written in response to Big Tent Poetry’s Monday Prompt for 3 January 2011 (aka my birthday).
Originally written for 52|250 challenges, my linked pieces of flash fiction “Antlers” and “Venison” have now been published in Cliterature Journal’s Appetite issue. Will this appearance be enough to get me kicked out of the serious veg*n club? We’ll find out!
for the vampire
to get drunk
to believe he prays
for my forgiveness
to cry in stranger’s lap
—your eyes look dark
—we’ve been out all night
not enough champagne
to make connection last
or get the memories off of me
Written in response to Big Tent Poetry’s Monday Prompt for 29 November 2010.
his bones resurface from the ashpit whenever I think I've crushed his final nib & forklifted more lush flames onto his grounds last week it was a hand passed itself up through char & cupped compacted crater lip clunk clunk thud like a catfish that won't die for several hammer swings to head it flopped & flipped its way past roots which w(oul)d've recoiled if they c(oul)d long ago—cedars don't believe in vengeance don't understand how remembered fires are passed by force of skin to skin & spread if not contained by lighting them again
Written in response to Big Tent Poetry’s Monday Prompt for 22 November 2010.
rain breaks clouds too dark to see on dark and fills the roads with silence pain draws thighs to abdomen fights seek their end in silence rain breaks against the sunlight, taps windows if there's wind clouds too dark to see on dark obey like kites battered by rain that drowns red maple leaves and fills the roads with silence
Written in response to Big Tent Poetry’s Monday Prompt for 15 November 2010.