NaPoWriMo Day Whatever. I have clearly failed to make this regular.



NaPoWriMo 2015, Day 05, because I missed days 3 and 4. WordPress isn’t good at formatting things, so I’ve resorted to printscreening my works. Merely click to embiggen.

Driftwood poem


NaPoWriMo 2015, Day 2.



All traumas rearrange themselves

into a familiar shape. Like on T.V.,

when a swarm of locusts come together

to form a giant fist, and the madman

scientist watches from his headquarters,

cackling, though you can’t help

but be amused. It seems comical,

to think all this—the dim light,

the chipped paint, the paroxysm

of bliss I summoned from your mouth

with mine—can be washed down,

like a bitter vitamin. The other term

for this is processing, or, to break down

into a form that can be easily deemed

palatable. I think that fits also. Observe

the act up close, prove to yourself

that you can stomach it. This is

what you do. This is what happens.


NaPoWriMo Day 01. Alright then.



The view from here is a strange one.

Far-off places don’t appear bigger, their images

aren’t incredible enough to be privileged

by the trick of perspective. But their colors

are brighter, almost neon. Rose-colored

lenses are what I want for these eyes,

peeled back too long on the watch

for spies and intruders, but instead,

I have you. I’m still getting the hang

of extravagant love, as if it were a dance

my body had forgotten, though I know

it should be as easy as sitting

on a swingset. The cranes

from the construction site

cast their long shadows over us,

and I know things will be fine.

Not always, but usually.