My lips are freaks.
I am burlesque.
I am not a performer
What my figure is full of
Could add to addition.
Doors show more than windows
Depending on their angle.
Tag: writing
Wanting
Balloons murmur at Velvet’s party. So much soft rubbing in the dim light. Silks and their secretaries took the night off for this. Behold the lonely dark in the corner, desperate for touch.
What does the # Sign Mean?
Gold stop sign. Blue go light. Our teams will fight on the train home. What comes next is rain of diamonds and jars.
What Kind of Spider is This?
Two invisible legs of glass. Six yellow as yolk. Fiberglass hairs. Flippant fangs.
The house does not stop running. In my snare drum diagram, it indicates a problem with things that don’t make a sound.
He’s crawling into your purse…
Yellow
Yellow is so small between
My breasts
If she’s looking for my heart
She won’t find it there
My attic contains orgasms
And fireworks
Yellow can set off both
Into my mouth she climbs
Like the scent of a
Song I no longer have
Polka Dots
The basket is left
Solid pink –
The polka dots dieting
Subtraction is valued.
Less is more
Is the theory
But what is more?
It cannot be less
Where do the little
White polka dots go
When they subtract
The pink from themselves?
The Cave of the Crow
The cave of the crow
Is an eerie place
There is nowhere to sit
The hungry lynx in
The back
Is mildly terrified
When the sound of the crow
Reverberates
(he has no music)
The walls get stronger
Light does not linger
On the face
The lynx laughs
There will be no food
But the languishing
Might be all he needs
Temper
I lost my temper.
I have not found him.
I slip through my day.
I don’t make a dent.
It’s not all about me, is it?
With less weight,
Those who lose their
Tempers
Travel faster.
At the end of a cough
I found myself on the
Rough-hewn coast
In the home
I wanted.
The Diet
Crazy stuff that women do for zippers. Shrink your violin. What has happened to me? I used to rule the world. Now mercenary companies catalog my vivisected victories. I am a dictionary. I am a zucchini. Plant therapy for the second half of the community.
My Lungs
Bible of life. Distill yourself into a skirt. Proprietary private apartments. Seek the word of the day. New learning disabilities are you and your rich neurons. People grow wild in bushes every time you want to be. Woman woman woman. Woman with the highest rate of falling. Fall. My lungs are crackling like fire.
This poem is a blend of my normal writing and auto fill suggestions
