she is wary
of ****** thermometers
of masculine logic behind sterile
of adjectives that make things difficult
to put in her mouth
and swallow.
mzf
Apr 19, 2013
Apr 19, 2013 at 8:04 AM UTC
A little boy kicked
a ball, not a red ball,
into the sky.
Somewhere between his laugh
and the clouds,
He lost sight of it.
mzf
Apr 19, 2013
Apr 19, 2013 at 5:44 AM UTC
What will become of us
when sons inherit hate?
Will we be proud?
Will we offer spirits, weighted
with every detail and derision?
Yes, there is blood and grief,
there are tears enough
to salt these hills
and fill our wadis;
Yet wadis squander
all we spill out.
mzf
Mar 24, 2013
Mar 24, 2013 at 5:01 PM UTC
Max Boxer,
accused of ******
local women,
was brutally killed
yesterday.
His killer,
a woman arrested
this morning
on animal abuse charges,
confessed immediately.
mzf
Mar 21, 2013
Mar 21, 2013 at 7:23 AM UTC
I never liked sitting on porches.
My father did
and sometimes my mother too.
I wondered,
are they really in love.
One might think so
if he passed down the street
toward the sunset
and happened to look over his shoulder
and see my mother's head
propped against my father's neck.
He might even hasten his step
into the oranges & reds & purples
with a new outlook,
hoping to find love
or maybe even a different life;
but
I know
that when it got cold and dark
my mother would come in
with her eyes on the floor
pretending to call our dog
(her way of praying)
until she made it to the kitchen.
For dinner
she cooked with onions
because she cared about us too much
to stay out on the porch
and look up past the stars.
mzf
Mar 21, 2013
Mar 21, 2013 at 5:17 AM UTC
you
manifested on mourning swells
all too soon. a slow fade
grayed over our blue sea
and your green eyes.
i hope you feel
missed.
mzf
Mar 21, 2013
Mar 21, 2013 at 4:15 AM UTC
there is a simile
in the moon
and the way
her belly waxes
with each waning,
though
she won’t let me
write it.
mzf
Mar 20, 2013
Mar 20, 2013 at 3:43 PM UTC
Three days now
I've sipped licorice
in the afternoon.
I am, even now
as I write this,
warm in the liquor's womb.
Perhaps I judged too soon (?)
mzf
Mar 20, 2013
Mar 20, 2013 at 8:21 AM UTC
it's not
that he said
he loves me;
it's that
his voice
came from somewhere
inside,
and
we've never met.
mzf
Mar 20, 2013
Mar 20, 2013 at 3:53 AM UTC
it’s morning for me,
he's still snoring
in the other room,
cozy under flannel sheets,
close and untouchable.
after last night
i thought he’d be a kinder lover.
(the kind that leaves afterwards)
now i’m stuck
waiting for a train wreck,
the couple next door to start screaming,
anything
that will wake him up.
but it’s so quiet-
even my thoughts stayed in bed
bundled up with him,
and i’m too (l)affable
to shake their shoulders.
mzf
Mar 20, 2013
Mar 20, 2013 at 2:26 AM UTC