the Prometheus death fit for humankind, take it then take it and see how we are born, see how we’ll die.
Of this night’s eye or insanity that was dissevered, A divine satire loomed of an Iliad one day, that was deemed as dithyrambic.
I created a soundtrack for the most brutal scene yet in the ongoing Identify novel collaboration.
like abandoned memories, recalled by my mother like when my grandfather said “I’m going to kill you” while counting money
Through the smokestacks there is the death of me as I pass the hills.
I sit at her bedroom window an age where branches hung themselves Antigone.
I’m very happy to say that my poem, “Hid too well” has been published in Edge of Humanity.
The humble words of the wise “Death is a prerequisite to life “it will always arrive and once it does...”
Check out this incredible poem by Matt. It was a response to a comment I left on one of his pieces, and I really enjoyed reading it.
and also the men who are too large, walking. hurting, toward the store
and the women who sit in their cars, windows nearly closed, smoke
everywhere and they see me looking at you, in my phone, while I’m
none of them and also everything they are and here we all sit
Wondering about how the soft shuffling of a heavy foot can make
it to the entrance of the store, one with a door that opens for them,
knowing they are hurt. And maybe think about their death.
I see in them what they hate about themselves and I feel.
Ash Wednesday in her bedroom on the thorns/ death’s bone-flute
“You're the first of your kind—”
I’m very excited to announce that my poem, “My child”, has been published at MasticadoresUSA.
and I laugh at death till I hear it laughing too
There there, society will not forgive you it will haul you over coals put you in its iron maiden who suffocates your imagination
Almost twenty and I thought I found some white in my hair how unsurprising
My main character, Oktavia, had an arc of redemption but losing her pet dragon, Lincoln, was the original idea for me to have her descent into the pith and despair of madness (we all love a good anti-hero).
Verdigris I should kill her seed
From solidarity and desire, the trace of winter’s end, Will I always remember that? I see people Scowled on their prophecies, and dreams from before Are never nearly settled in the impression of first want— With these rhythmic ghosts upon red petals, and in the distance The beauty of the dew—vanishing in deeper silence— Terrifying their own voices nightmarish with unease
Who clear away the bodies, tie the flags low, remember who exchange your smile for piles of shit-brown guile
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