Posts Tagged: poem
spoken
Do you like the sound of your own voice? Most don’t. I don’t. I think I sound like a little baby sucking her thumb, but I did this anyway. My man and I played around with a poem I wrote.
spoken
Do you like the sound of your own voice? Most don’t. I don’t. I think I sound like a little baby sucking her thumb, but I did this anyway. My man and I played around with a poem I wrote.
drinking game
how to play: drink a shot every time you hear a number. 1. maybe your childhood was what they call normal or maybe not but either way 2. you turned out fine, at least you looked as fine as most young
drinking game
how to play: drink a shot every time you hear a number. 1. maybe your childhood was what they call normal or maybe not but either way 2. you turned out fine, at least you looked as fine as most young
i am the story
In the flapping of Borges’ pigeon wings, lodged in Gregor Samsa’s gizzard, in the cello played during commercials for luxury sedans and the crow clinging to the top of the telephone pole, behind a mountain’s profile, at the bottom of
i am the story
In the flapping of Borges’ pigeon wings, lodged in Gregor Samsa’s gizzard, in the cello played during commercials for luxury sedans and the crow clinging to the top of the telephone pole, behind a mountain’s profile, at the bottom of
xmas rejection song
All wholly shit. My time is wasted rhyming. Who wants to hear me complain? Come flay me now, paper cuts to silver lining then fill each hole up with spackle and paint. I’ll take my fill of dope and wine
xmas rejection song
All wholly shit. My time is wasted rhyming. Who wants to hear me complain? Come flay me now, paper cuts to silver lining then fill each hole up with spackle and paint. I’ll take my fill of dope and wine
song
This is a song this is a song without music for quiet people for those who don’t need so much stimulation who might prefer the softness of a spoon to the fork or the burn of the sun swallowed by
song
This is a song this is a song without music for quiet people for those who don’t need so much stimulation who might prefer the softness of a spoon to the fork or the burn of the sun swallowed by
house in my head
I have a house in my head. At night I clamber up to look around. I found it years ago-reaching into darkness, fumbling along walls I discovered the opening and hoisted myself up into a low-ceilinged room, close, cobwebbed, clogged
house in my head
I have a house in my head. At night I clamber up to look around. I found it years ago-reaching into darkness, fumbling along walls I discovered the opening and hoisted myself up into a low-ceilinged room, close, cobwebbed, clogged
Hole In My Heart
1 I was born with a hole in my heart. I’ve always thought that would make a good first line for a story but in reality, it wasn’t that dramatic. It was a small hole and by the time I
Hole In My Heart
1 I was born with a hole in my heart. I’ve always thought that would make a good first line for a story but in reality, it wasn’t that dramatic. It was a small hole and by the time I
bird watching
bird watching by Anna Fonté The word observation can mean both attention and devotion, as if watching is both a scientific and a spiritual practice, as if there were a fascial connection between eye, heart, and beyond. I see some
bird watching
bird watching by Anna Fonté The word observation can mean both attention and devotion, as if watching is both a scientific and a spiritual practice, as if there were a fascial connection between eye, heart, and beyond. I see some
her hand
her hand by anna fonté hot & solid in my hand, when i hold hers i grip a hunk of liquid crystal baked in sun it worms into me, swimming veins, up to my armpit where it curls inside my chest
her hand
her hand by anna fonté hot & solid in my hand, when i hold hers i grip a hunk of liquid crystal baked in sun it worms into me, swimming veins, up to my armpit where it curls inside my chest
transportation
This morning at 2 a.m. 10/15/2012, my niece was born. I’m beside myself! Is there anything like a newborn? you drive home from the hospital with both hands on the steering wheel, accelerating carefully past a ferry loaded with strangers,
transportation
This morning at 2 a.m. 10/15/2012, my niece was born. I’m beside myself! Is there anything like a newborn? you drive home from the hospital with both hands on the steering wheel, accelerating carefully past a ferry loaded with strangers,
what i asked for
Every time I say the words “my” and “novel” in the same sentence, my novel hogties me to the bed and teaches me a lesson with a dull pencil: Take that, you pretentious twirp. So today, instead of trying to
what i asked for
Every time I say the words “my” and “novel” in the same sentence, my novel hogties me to the bed and teaches me a lesson with a dull pencil: Take that, you pretentious twirp. So today, instead of trying to
if numbers had faces
Lately, I’ve been thinking about numbers. When I was a kid learning math, every number had an association, a face, and/or a personality in my mind. I had a relationship with certain numbers: 2 worried me-I could never write it
if numbers had faces
Lately, I’ve been thinking about numbers. When I was a kid learning math, every number had an association, a face, and/or a personality in my mind. I had a relationship with certain numbers: 2 worried me-I could never write it
How to Talk Politics
Slap on some new-minted cologne, slick back with a fine-toothed comb, llck the pearly whites and grab the lectern with both hands. Lean forward. Lean. Imagine you’re as big and hard as a microphone. Picture a room full of pretty
How to Talk Politics
Slap on some new-minted cologne, slick back with a fine-toothed comb, llck the pearly whites and grab the lectern with both hands. Lean forward. Lean. Imagine you’re as big and hard as a microphone. Picture a room full of pretty
sentience
* how many years has it been since I fell in love with my own reflection if love was cold and flat as glass? I’ve spent my life staring into mirrors watching the years swim towards me like
sentience
* how many years has it been since I fell in love with my own reflection if love was cold and flat as glass? I’ve spent my life staring into mirrors watching the years swim towards me like
water dream
at night i dream water big water, unruffled as glass and as clear blue spanning from feet to horizon world open wide as a mouth tilted up to the sky. i pause at the edge, frozen under my umbrella, cold
water dream
at night i dream water big water, unruffled as glass and as clear blue spanning from feet to horizon world open wide as a mouth tilted up to the sky. i pause at the edge, frozen under my umbrella, cold
