Category: Poetry

Ea Atargatis Tell her that the king lives, and be spared her wrath. Feel her embrace, as she pulls you beneath the waves. Taste her lips, trace hips with fingers. Get lost in her touch, weightless body dragging you under. The last sight you see, green hair drifting on currents as the light fades.

She was an unexpected pleasure, even if the time was borrowed and the clock fast ticking, that he had never hoped to experience. They were pieces of a puzzle locking nicely into place, only the picture they made didn’t match the one on either box. Fingers touching as hands pass cigarettes back and forth; lingering …

Do you remember when the asphalt veins of LA were newly paved? The city’s lifeblood first flowing through them. I remember falling in love with a girl that let me put the tip of my tongue against her eye. She taught me that physical contact did not mean love. I had a dream where I …

I saw her the other day, wearing the sunglasses I made for her back when we were just friends. She was with him, and I felt sad for all three of us. That this is where we were in relation to each other; her driving him to work, him believing that his fate is different, …

Fickle gods, allowing us to fail ourselves so that we may serve their ends. Cephissus had drawn to him, a mermaid (a beautiful woman of the water) from the depths of the sea to the mouth of a river (the limit of his domain) and made a gift of her to his son, Narcissus (a …

I saw a little bird today lost in the food court of the mall. Watched as it flew in circles above the heads of the oblivious people too focused on eating their lunches to notice that little, lost bird land in the faux greenery that lined the area designated for the consumption of cheap, quickly …

A man lays in the grass of his yard to take a Polaroid of the blue sky above him. Later, he rows through the night, across the calm surface of an ocean, rows until he sees the sun rise the light setting the waves on fire. He turns his little boat around, careful not to …

He had never met the paralyzed plumber, the poor wheelchair ridden soul that fell victim to Polio before he had the chance to impregnate his young, blushing bride. The Amish woman talked about him though, told him how the plumber had come to her, so that he might learn to make love again to the …

I plucked it from its branch, a bright green leaf, held it gently in my hand as I made my way home through the bright summer sunlight and once I was safely in my room I placed that little slice of life on a bookcase shelf protected from the harsh light outside but as the …

Don’t worry, boy. I don’t plan on keeping her, it would never work out anyway, I just want to borrow her for a bit and show her a good time. Might be I raise the bar give you something to work for not that you ever really work for her. She won’t be broken when …