Tag: poetryisnotdead

Photo by Anna Auza on Unsplash


Where are you from, a person is often asked.Where indeed? I have no answer. My eyes are slanted, but I'm not Oriental.I'm not a rug, don't tread on me.My jeans are Levi's, but I'm not a stadium.Don't play games with me.My feet are blistered, but I don't wear high heels.I…

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Photo by Ed Robertson on Unsplash

Page 337

In response to Lâm Thị Mỹ Dạ's Bomb Crater Sky. Dad served two tours in the war,a media circus of Ohio hippies andescapes from Saigon via helicopterLit by the fireworks on the nightly news,gilded in the blood of the conscripts,photographed by Leica. Building roads as a Seabee,cleaning the mud caked…

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Photo by Chris Liverani on Unsplash

Human Racing

Surviving is a verb Living is too Breathing, smelling, touching Words that imply movement I've not stopped moving Since yesterday Whenever that was. Wish I could stop time The rat race Aging Death Sex Taxes Memento mori, Latin 'Remember you will die' Keep that hubris in check We're all born…

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Photo by Vlad Hilitanu on Unsplash


You buy clothes you never wear To impress people who don't care You can't speak in front of crowds You should get your head checked You have blisters on your heels From shoes that refuse to be broken in You wear makeup to even out your tan Certainly not to…

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Photo by Martha Dominguez de Gouveia on Unsplash

Hospital Bench

Poems gush out my fingertips Written carefully in blood Tattooed on my skin The original sin Sapphire blue Crimson red Fetch me a napkin Sharpen the quill Pumice the moments Lovely bops of clarity 'Cause nothing else in this damn world makes a lick of sense.

Photo by Eugene Lagunov on Unsplash

Harmony Palatial

Pink colored chlorophyll Sunshine blue marker Concrete easel Another one Eurydice walkabout Under the jazz promenade Beatrice says hello Measure for measure A forest lies honestly Mirrors seek wrinkles Presidential silence Elephantine s t r e t c h

Photo by Sterling Davis on Unsplash


twenty four hours in a day twenty four years since riots serenaded the streets of L.A. that powder keg of corruption safety of unreality violated blue and red combined made purple, united against the tyranny of the 5-0 we lived six hours away working class neighborhood southside Modesto I can…

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Photo by DDP on Unsplash


If I could, I would give my eyes back to God Return to sender, address unknown To remove from me the grief that comes With being slightly shadowed in everyday situations These pinpricks of space that adjust appropriately To the dark, to the light, unto the breach Can't see the…

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