Explore Poems: Audiences

Brown and furry
Caterpillar in a hurry,
Take your walk
To the shady leaf, or stalk,
Or what not,
Which…

I don’t like similes.Every time I try to think of onemy brain feels like a vast, empty desert;my eyes…

If for a day joy masters me,
Think not my wounds are healed;
Far deeper than the scars you see,
I keep the roots concealed.

They shall bear blossoms with the fall;
I have their word for this,
Who tend my roots with rains of gall,
And...

1.
If a house is haunted like a radio
is haunted         If a body is a radio
of blood         If a body of ghosts
hums like blood over a valley of
bone         If blood is a...

Green I want you green
green wind green branches
Boat on the sea and
horse on the mountain
Shadow on her waist
she dreams at her railing
green flesh green hair
eyes of cold silver
Green I want you green
Under the gypsy moon
things are seeing her
but she can’t...

words
are birds
that arrive
with books
and spring

they
love
clouds
the wind
and trees

some words
are messengers
that come
from far away
from distant lands

for them
there are
no borders
only stars
moon and sun

some words
are familiar
like canaries
others are exotic
like the quetzal bird

some can stand
the cold
others migrate
with the sun
to the south

some words
die
caged—
they're difficult
to translate

and others
build...

I hear it at night
when I turn out the light.
It’s that creature who’s under my bed.
He won’t go away.
He’s determined to stay.
But I wish he would beat it, instead.

I told him to go,
but he shook his head no.
He was worse...

She had the jitters
She had the flu
She showed up late
She missed her cue
She kicked the director
She screamed at the crew
And tripped on a prop
And fell in some goo
And ripped her costume
A place or two
Then she forgot
A line she knew
And went...

5am: the frogs
ask what is it, what is it?
It is what it is.

I have eaten
the plums
that were in
the icebox

and which
you were probably
saving
for breakfast

Forgive me
they were delicious
so sweet
and so cold

Yes, I live inside the piano,
but there is no need for you
to come and visit me.

I’m in the house.
It’s nice out: warm
sun on cold snow.
First day of   spring
or last of   winter.
My legs run down
the stairs and out
the door, my top
half   here typing

If   I would be walking down the road
you told me to imagine and I would and find
a diner kind of   teacup sitting on its saucer
in the middle then I would feel so good
in my life that is just like mine
I...

They are building a ship
in a field
much bigger than I should have thought
sensible.
When it is finished
there will never be enough of them
to carry it to the sea
and already it is turning
rusty.

My hat
was run over
by a trolley
yesterday.
This morning
my coat took a walk
to some place
far away.
This afternoon
my shoes
happened to get assassinated.
— I’m still here?
that’s just
i t.

O beautiful
was the werewolf
in his evil forest.
We took him
to the carnival
and he started
     crying
when he saw
the Ferris wheel.
Electric
green and red tears
flowed down
his furry cheeks.
He looked
like a boat
out on the dark
water.

A monster owl
out on the fence
flew away. What
is it the sign
of? The sign of
an owl.

they own everything

Roads around mountains
cause we can’t drive
through

That’s Poetry
to Me.

Knocks on the door.
Who?
I sweep the dust of my loneliness
under the rug.
I arrange a smile
and open.