Sitting on park benches and donning berets,
Wearing sunglasses indoors and out.
Staying up for nights and nights and sleeping in for days and days,
Waking only for a kettle's shout.
Complaining about how I cannot love
And musing about a man I might like.
Insisting there is no below or above,
And painting white crosses all over my bike.
Smelling the color of a rose
And tasting the sound of an old 45.
Developing a hatred for any sort of prose
And allowing my poems to eat me alive.
I could move to and rot in New Mexico,
Or spend my time writing about heartbreak and coffee,
But I'll never be a celebrity poet, no,
I'm afraid that I am much too happy.
You're bright green
because you remind me of life
and grass showing through
my thawing ice
and there's something comforting
in knowing that it won't be winter forever.
Bottle in my mouth
Whisky slides down
Sweet taste of shut up
My heart is aching
Hold in your pain
Push away your tears
Look in the mirror
All you see
Eating you alive
Cut your arms
Screams echoing across the street
Flash backs of where you went wrong
All those regrets
Pain seeping from your mind
The man who raped you
Who beat you
Who robbed you of your innocence
Fuck you, you scream
The color red
Flowing like a river
Guess who is your first visitor
Frost carved a harmonious poem among the trees
As withering driftwood, thirsts for color
The petals weep with ink
Dank obscured whirlwinds that wish to stay
In fields of everlasting growth
I would disentangle my reasoning
I wish to fly in the spirt of my childish naivety.
To sing-jump-dance in the joyful silence I feel as
I sway to the rhythmic flow of my favorite sunbeam.
But I have already spent my summer days under the sun,
I have soaked up all its warmth
until it could not bear the burden of nourishing me.
winter has come.
And though I deny it, the child within shivers.
His rattling teeth begging me to take him home.
To rest awhile. To wait the return of that glorious spring.
I am left alone in that empty void he has left.
all color and mirth gone with his smile.
I look around, not knowing where to go... all is gray.
I know not how to grow.
like a rose in the snow, I will not grow.
Roses aren't red
Violets aren't blue
Because theres no more color
In a world without you
i can no longer be the sun
the veins that run
scar tissue disguised as
i think you'll soon figure out
the pattern of darkened bruises
on my thigh
are the color of
and the moon can't thaw
instead you can
reside in my bruises
pools of thawing blood
like being the one
to punch holes in
Think of the color of exhaustion,
of ash, or surrender,
air that won't stir its leaves,
color of the moon on a loveless night,
staleness of a house unlived in for a while;
you enter & let the hues drift in.
Sunday afternoons with nothing in particular to do-
no mail today. From your window, the face
of a building, the face
of rain, cold tea staining its white cup,
book finished, dishes stacked,
children gone with him for the day.
The color of no turning back,
of the words, "I don't care anymore,"
a face draining to stillness
on the operating room table.
Canvas without paint, a story without words,
a taxicab with no place to go.
In sleep, you erased the yellow hat & red suitcase by the door,
the cockatiel squawking from his bronze cage,
the letter you've been meaning to open-
its dark scrabble of words-
blossom of blood on the morning sheets,
even the pink begonias splayed outside your office door-
you erased it all before the stars surrendered
& the pale sun dragged itself out of bed
one more time. Would you ever get it right,
a blankness so vast it has no name,
a whiteness drained of color by all the colors
that it's made of? So much flatness
to chronicle & name before giving up & starting over,
before the last ellipsis, or the window's edge of paper
you stare through now...
People see the world they want to see
and nothing more
their individual perceptions color endlessly
But they never take the time to find out who is coloring
they color unconsciously
becoming a prisoner of their hallucinations
there was a little elephant he stopped for a drink
when something in the water made him turn to pink
he was very sad he had lost his grey
something in the water had taken it away
he called upon is friend an owl so very wise
when he saw his color could not believe his eyes
the owl he made a potion to take the pink away
and restore his color and give him back his grey
elephant was happy and he began to think
next time he was thirsty be careful what you drink.