A masterpiece, the flecks of paint speckling the ground below. To play god, and hold them in my hands. To humanize him, and take flight with no wings. I stare into each sculpted lake from the clouds, their sizes amassed … Continue reading To Play God, 04/10/2019, 4:17 P.M.
Finding your fingers in the dark, guiding me to your lips. My hands are a stranger’s to you, a mass of overgrown vines. They tangle your fingers, boasting no escape. Your face, a blank slate, the outline traced by my … Continue reading Leather, 10:37 A.M., 08/19/2019
First the smoke, then your breath. Then your laugh, then your voice, then the smoke, then your breath. Your face veiled in clouds of wonder. The smoke, then your breath, then the end of your cigarette, slowly inching closer to … Continue reading Veiled, 9:15 A.M., 01/22/2019
How do I ignore: This space between us. The space you left in my bed, that I now fill with extraneous furnishings. The lamp casting shadow puppets on the wall of you and me, our figures intertwined. These new cracks … Continue reading Shadow Puppets, 10:47 PM, 02/03/2019
Cool down, please. This burning on the tip of my tongue. My best friend, my worst enemy. It dances in my mouth, the same way it danced in yours. Longing for his familiar dance partner, begging you one more song. … Continue reading Dance Partners, 10:00 A.M. 11/26/2018
The cars lined the street in front of your house. Our shoes lined the wall next to the door. Your back was to us as we entered the kitchen, filled to the brim with food and family. We spilled out … Continue reading The Day Before Thanksgiving
The Challenge: The Alliteration Game Write a short poem using as much constant alliteration as possible without using a dictionary for extra words. The Story: Linger Longer I linger longer, loving the last lonesome listing of your lips longing for … Continue reading Creative Writing Challenge: The Alliteration Game (Zach)
I’m at a bar. A bar on the corner of 51st and Union. My mother is far, Far away, taking communion. She’s praying, For me. For me and my sinful ways. I’m saying, Mark, pour me another, it’s been … Continue reading Long, Long Days
Some days, I feel like a sculptor sat in front of ash asked to build a figurine. So I stand there, spitting into dirt, pressing dusty clods together with my fingertips praying I’ll make art. But I can’t. There is … Continue reading On writing
Three sheets to the wind with no boat and no gin. Can’t be a pirate, when you’re landlocked by sin. The sirens sound And you hold your ground Until the spoils you’ve hidden are suddenly found. The waves crash against … Continue reading Sailing
