Wednesday, October 12, 2011
Wednesday, August 17, 2011
From New Orleans, in August
I lived as a Russian toy
in the small town north
of here. My body rolled
in her body. Her ribcage,
rounded as a loving arm,
made those months a hot,
sad surrender. I could get used
to the blatant cold, spring’s wild
dogs, the miles of unholy farmland,
but not the early dark
brought on by winter’s months.
Here, the days have me landlocked.
Out the apartment’s two small windows
I can only see where the trash is taken out to.
I understand this hot south as a dogfight.
I assume a landscape still exists
after nightfall but I could never really be sure.
Tuesday, June 21, 2011
Saturday, June 11, 2011
Well, there has been quite a hiatus on this blog. The poems aren't coming easily anymore. It's all a bit discouraging, but I guess understandable. There are big transitions going on. I recently left Oberlin to return to New Orleans to work for the next eight months so that I can finish school in London in the Spring. Oberlin is a really special place and so is New Orleans but the incongruity is a bit hard to bear; but it's getting easier. Hopefully I will have something that I am proud of on here soon.
Stay tuned, I suppose.