Tell Me A Story

A Poet's Journey

New beginnings should always involve an element of the unattainable as inspiration.

 

Feedback of Desire

I want to crack an egg on your ass, fix your chipped nail polish, read those poems you never finished, even the ones that aren’t about me. See, I’m not selfish. I can be vulnerable, just don’t get up and go. Like, we could have three dogs in case one dies in the future and we won’t be lonely or I won’t because you might leave me. I don’t blame you for downgrading, for simplicity. At this age, I really should have it together. When I walk the neighborhood, I think the flowers

Reckoning

In a private room, a woman works tirelessly, altering damaged clothing. There are pants for a man who wants to hide scars, a vest for a girl who needs to feel safe, a wool cape to swoop over the shoulders of one who carries the weight. I enter the room and notice the woman is held together with safety pins and tiny fibers that have attached to her skin and look like glue. There are small lines that look like stitches that hold her dress to her body. She looks at me and the sc

The Space Between Unloud Wishes of Re(a)d Words

My saving grace makes all the difference because scars are what you contemplate. As I mentioned, the life and the pictures. Do not forget that. The awkwardness of this crazy person connects with the role you will play. These feelings might become psychology if for whatever reason. Angst and a material object. Given how a patient already is often personal, it allows the bigger heart to really feel the hurt. I could not help insinuating that |terrible squinting attracts someone

Vacation From Mercy

I gesture and you nod. I say pen and you say no, thank you. I want to talk but watch your edges crackle when I say company and soften when my voice stays too long on the eee. You say rice milk and nutrition, and I say something that sounds like more. You set down boxes, and ask me to pour myself a bowl to discuss the merits of bran versus flax. Your eyes widen and relax with your coffee. I see how nervous you get when I start breathing the air that’s arguably yours. The telev

Blue Ritual

Pick an hour of the day, either at the beginning or end, and write down that hour on a sheet of paper. This paper should be folded and put into your pocket. Before you do that recall a place on your body where you had a bruise. The kind that changed colors. Write the place on the body on this sheet of paper. Think about a rainbow for at least sixty seconds. Next remember a time that your heart felt blue. Write on the same sheet of paper what or who made you feel this pain. Si

The Boulevard Has No Saint

FRAY You find something. You think of yourself as prepared but you never knew exactly what for until now. You realize it when you brush yourself off, wiping hands on knees and saying something like ‘golly.’ You’ve only seen perfectly coiffed and it makes a lasting impression. You caught a glimpse ofrough edges and it fascinates you in a way you’d never anticipated. GARNISH There was a day several years ago when you picked up the phone and began frantically dialing numbers bec

An Understanding of The Highway

She says yes sometimes when she wants to say no but you hope that this isn't one of those times. It's cold outside and she has goose bumps on her arms. Out of the corner of your eye you notice how she wears purple and beige and black all at once. You don't know anyone who can do that and not look like a bruise. Her shirt fabric is always silky and forward. She makes it look effortless except for that second where she adjusts her necklace, holding it to her chest. You sigh bec

Waterlogged

beginning here is a promise to breathe underwater where laughs emit bubbles break the surface; when you clasp hands and touch tongues play repeat after me while doing butt bumpers and come up choking on the funny. I’m thinking Jill and what’s his face and you remember what the rest of the poem said because of everything and nothing in particular but old fashion plates help me offer my version of the end of it. I write letters addressed to various you’s please don’t break this

No News Today

Dear N~ There’s no news today. I’m telling you now for fear you might not read this ‘til later. I’d be none the wiser to missing declarations that come with conducting roll call. The northwest is predictably quiet, sitting on her hands, unable to choose x’s over why but this is nothing new. No silent victories to report. Did you know a plastic blue tarp can prevent use of pots and pans at the highest heights? This is not news but useful information if you feel damp on the ins

I Sat Down and Cried at The Pigalle Metro Stop

From a street nearby, I wrote you letters. For months they were kept in a box near the door, stacked up and waiting. I wish I knew where you were so I could tell you things. We wound up in the underground. I found us huddled near a vending machine, drinking from the same cup of coffee, laughing at a photograph of a fat man wearing a tu-tu on the wall, advertising cellphones. The train approached, shrieking into the hour, wind rushing. In the middle of Pigalle I sat down and c

The Impracticability Of Silence

A bird doesn't say you know that and I never told you. You must know by now. I have tried quiet smiles. I wish I told you but. You know what happens when it happens. It happens like this. It is almost that. It is real when you wear denim. I am sitting with words, screaming truths behind red lips. I am in a chair. I am telling you answers, just not in the way you want them. You are overthinking it. You are good at that and I like it and dislike it. Those thoughts are what I'm

Stubborn Pigeon

Facts are facts and we see them on paper. When we turn the pages, we know it's the right thing to do. In the advertisement one handle of a toothbrush lasts a lifetime, but brush your teeth of their tartar and re-enamel the handle. Today is ready for a change of weather, but not so excited for the ___________. There is no meter to measure difficulties and simplicity but we'll opt for the latter. We are linked by buckles on belts, fed through denim loops and cinched in feelings

Are You There, Bird?

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The Indigo Hour

There is a couch where you sit in the evening. It is covered in blue suede and a hiccup. It looks Victorian and feels safe. Your head aches. You are trying to write things down in a way that matters. She wears white and sits down next to you. You acknowledge her with a scratch on the shoulder and turn away. Her bare feet dangle over one end of the couch. Her pinky toe has a chip in the smooth brown polish and she's bobbing her foot. Tell me a story she says, leaning against y

Miscommunication Is Nice

The words are there for the taking. You handed them over yellow and awake so I might get to know you better. I gave you a series of question marks and you contemplated. I told you about psychology and a mad man. You gave me back history and yours on mint lines with perforation and occasional generalities. What honey what milk what sunburn do you soothe with phrases. A mind knows the intricate arches and swoop of your 's' because no one wears consistent like you. You forget sp

It Is Not Appropriate

She is covered in green and yellow patches, bruised from the weight of words. They emerge in fragments and phrases and cover her body. When they find their way to the surface, you witness affliction in action. Every sentence leaves your mouth and finds its way under her skin. Standing in the middle of wooden bookcases and those waiting for a spectacle, she reveals words that travel the length of her arm from underneath frilly wrist ruffles. As you read aloud to no one in part

Closing Not Locking

You waved a degree well above her yard-stick, knowing how to connect dots sans yellow number two, as if you'd channeled her thoughts without thieving or scheming, where a bittersweet victory ensued. You were here--just one last hurrah. A clock ticked toward the final minutes of shared injuries as she quietly lead you back to task. Fingers crossed she made room in a heart because you tell yourself you don't need to know but you do until you don't. Accessorized with a bent halo

All Lines Point To It

1. No accidents 2. No alcohol 3. No asking 4. No bonding 5. No commiserating 6. No details 7. No difference 8. No flexibility 9. No gifts 10. No history 11. No knowing 12. No knowledge 13. No leaning 14. No love 15. No luck 16. No needing 17. No past 18. No perfect 19. No picking 20. No please 21. No prying 22. No regression 23. No reward 24. No shabbat 25. No sharing 26. No static 27. No texting 28. No waiting 29. No want 30. No winning 30. No wish 31. No wonder 32. No words

Treillis de Coeur

I subtracted truth to found eyes, blurred, or blurry, a feigned protest. A sum. Skin covered in fever, she says she’ll wear that or ink, if you’re really blue. That’s what mourners do. When it breaks, you’ll see how perfect it looks in the light. Abstraction unfolds. The iris transparent. Dreams well up and eye risk. A way of thinking in our hemispheric planes. Holding trust inside, you can lumber around the eight ball. Fashion me a sight, not past or present. Proclaim nothin

Various Arrondissements Where I Find You

4 ème- She sat on the steps to Agudath Hakehilot in the Marais. I was coming to meet her for lunch and she waved with her black mittens when she saw me round the corner off Rue des Rosiers. It’s unseasonably cold for January and she told me she’s sweating on the inside. We discussed where we should eat and she tapped her toe to the sound of woodwind instruments. There is a parade nearby and we cannot hear each other speaking. I leaned my head against hers so I could arrange t