A poem about listening to yourself.
Darren dared me to do it.
we all stand on the same bridge between birth and death our braided hair pinned back with memory neither smile nor scowl in our stance \ do not deny the air \ supporting the delicate \ suspension trusses \ girders \ cement steepled above \ a thread the river does not appear dangerous from this …
A microstory about change.
A poem about escaping the city
A poem about being the right friend at the right time.
“I know it’s cold in here, Libby, but don’t you think what you’re wearing is a little much?” She would say that. My mother. I scanned her pristinely white sneakers and the store-bought worn jeans she was wearing before I shrugged. “Can we just get this over with?” My winter coat tightened over my shoulders. …
It was a dark and stormy night—the kind, like war, that mitigated irascible deeds, covering murder with the tintinnabulations of rain on corrugated metal gables; and I, enswathed in my ignominious velvet cape, navigated our city's ever-slickening streets brandishing a penchant for justice. This little slice of purple prose was written for YeahWrite's microprose challenge. Click …
A poem about long distance relationships.
A poem about being happy with what you have