I’m stuck in the middle of drama that isn’t my problem anymore. The walls are caving in, and my escape isn’t through a door. Only a few could break out
Sunlight glittered on the liquid streets— Like a sea of diamonds, Michele thought as he ran to meet His darling at the Shining Islands, A restaurant they were fond of Since the beginning
“Enunciate, please!” “You’re talking too fast.” “Quit slurring your words.” “We’ll break you of that.” These are the voices Others put into my head. How can this part of me Be
I sit. I sigh. I watch the faces, None the one I wish to see. My eye erases The scene; the places Phase and swirl. Instantly I'm where I want to be. Blue
The place I want to go to is blustery and wild. It is where no car has driven before, no man has walked before. It is starry, silvery as sleep, dainty as dreaming,
People push past in a terrible fury, Most of them anxious and in a hurry, Some frantic as they run to and fro, Not knowing when or where to go. All are busy,
I spin between the whirling summer stars And balter to the orbit of the earth. My feet are bare of sandals, socks, or scars. My laughter shrieks hysterics, but not mirth. There’s
Panic rising, fear unfurling, voices screaming, Unrelenting— My thoughts besiege me, assault from every side, I cannot escape. Like the flat of a blade scorched by a blaze And thrust against my skin,
A sprinter slips and falls on the winter smooth sidewalks slickened with nice ice Now shrinking, almost gone. God was thinking, "Southern climate; time to go, snow."
I am the hurricane that shakes, The devious earth that quakes, The senseless distraction that takes, The great heart-emptiness that aches. I am an 11:58 submission, Cold, relentless opposition, Cruelty without contrition,
Another semester of classes, And homework to the heavens: Another several months Of lectures and dining hall crowds; Speed-reading and study; scribbles Of notes on this and that; Headaches and braindead moments When
The carpet is complicated So many colors and patterns replicated Never in the same places, relocated The walls are so bright now Leaves my mind asking why, not how To current trends people
The blackbirds flock in a cluster of murderous merles The month I am grieving. Blackbirds, They don’t chirp or caw or quaintly whistle. They cry. In a human sort of anguish that
How are you doing? “Great! Fine.” “Good. Well . . .” I smile. So do you. Teeth gleam in rows under curved lips. Our eyebrows raise, our eyes widen. Then I walk away, hands in my
It’s been said: “Hope survives best at the hearth.” Not my hope. Not at my hearth. The tile is cracked And pokers, rusted and crumbling; The forest is now a desert, kindling
See the fire blazing In the hearth—so amazing! Hear the branches cracking, Popping and snapping; Watch the flames dancing, Wildly enhancing, Bending, twisting, turning, While their dancing floor is burning! Feel heat
I do not think it’s a pious display, where Our mouths twist themselves into holy words. I do not think it is an intense windgust That lifts our spirits to momentary devotion.
Students' shoulders sag sorrowfully At the Season’s sluggishness, The Semester, stagnant and slow. We trod on our trajectory In a trance, totally and utterly tired, Thankful for the treasured time with family.
They gave you an identity. They told you not to change. These people made you, So they can tell you who you are. And this place, you call home. They took your identity.
Under a cold and watery sun, When the Midas-touched maple branches Have bronzed and gone to sleep— When people crunch the amber leaves With mouse-like scurries, their eyes downturned, Rushing through the cold—