There are Dead Flowers on the Windowsill
A broken tomb. / / Lies and sighs. / / A jackhammer. / / No muse. / / /
Is My Body So Mighty?
Is my body so mighty? / That my long black coat shows the tender curve of my hip? / Is my body so mighty? / How tantalizing the idea of my pussy
Prayer for the Truth
Love is political. And you know who I’m talking to. Like words / can never be privatized – / this is the difference between me and you. / /
You stare at me as if I should know better. // You look like I should be jealous. / Jealous of your smile and wily ways. / You part my lips in the
/ Is winter a distinct darkor a colored background? / A flesh or a well of frost? / The soil is warm within the seed / Hills in all direction from
/ Not to be confused with its relativethe golden pear / The fruit is edible when cookedbut when it ages to hard perfume / an entire margin of
Once / upon a time / or countless times each mother named Amy / has also been a monster. This has led / her to say I’m sorry or, in the
What Good is Love without Love?
Did I ever tell you what a good soccer player / I was? It was the first thing / / I was good at. Poetry was the second. Teaching / is the
© Ink Node, 2014