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Tag Archives: bones
We walk in hush under a humbled sky; hand- led, held to the beat of a broken moon, and a maze of dinosaur bones. .. Written for Poetic Asides.
.. This poem is a studio apart -ment, a compartment meant for greater things than all this sylla -bled skin. It’s got too many room -mates, not enough pizza, the slightest scent of stale stanzas. It’s got corrugated corduroy curtains … Continue reading
He’s solid rock under my feet, breathing room for my soul. – Psalm 62:2 .. The day she found her heart to be an uninhabitable room (small, dark, stifling) a cage of her own wild ………………making a closet full … Continue reading
“Last time, I imagined myself as the kid. This time, the skeleton.” ― John Green, The Fault in Our Stars .. For now, we’ve covered everything we can with these veiny shrouds, this masquerade of muscle, sinew, blood. We’ve danced … Continue reading
The boogieman’s got a plan. You see, he’s not hiding. He’s reading my …………..diary. He’s sitting on the pelvic bone stones of my old skeletons, waiting for me to wake up. .. Prompted by Poetic Asides.
. It’s dark in here, but isn’t it always, deep in the corners where the most brittle bones lie? I’ve got seven lives or so that say we’ll make it out of this one, see the sun again and try … Continue reading