francis-scudellariWhisper

American
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2am street sceneIt’s not an absence / this 2am darkness— / half-dark and half-lit
22
Jun 10, 2012
A language for the end timesIt’s the midsty morning, / all grammar’s run amuck / and the rapture won’t take me.
26
Jun 15, 2011
An apocalypse will paint beauty we'll never knowI was there, but I wasn't / where snowy wisps skitter / across the beige-brown sand,
10
Mar 12, 2011
An April Fool Ends BadlyIn that age of aged seasons / predating our own's four-square rhyme, / a reasonable jape was hatched
35
Apr 1, 2010
And the bayAnd the bay, not purple / but purple / in this light, addresses
16
Sep 24, 2012
And they come, like leaves of grass. And they'll go.And then I'm here, / and when I'm not here too / They walk past me,
61
Sep 24, 2012
An Illiterate Criticism of Identity PoliticsI, a hyphenated Italian, / will claim Shakespeare / descended the long
12
Apr 20, 2010
Apostate's creedWhen I was spongy / soft and daisy yellow, my father poured / forth with piety his cleansing love
41
Dec 21, 2010
Argus & Io**I.** / He’s / put on
128
Sep 1, 2010
As pretty as deathIt's not all pretty. this life. me. But what's not, can be. Pretty. It's not all sweetness, and light. this life. me. But what's not, what. stings. tangs. bites. What casts shadows, it can shed light. Or give sweetness. As unpretty as it is. An upturned bug, big. brown. hard. Its legs, twitching toward death and night. Sour, and ugly, and yet pretty in this fading light.
1
Jun 25, 2013
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