Honored once again to have my work featured in the Feminine Collective. If you want to read my latest piece, you can do so here: http://www.femininecollective.com/beige-violence/
flames softly kiss the kettle, liquid froths and broils. four stomachs shrink at each stir, cinched by winter’s corset. the coal runs grey, flowering, wilting into tired sparks falling cold and dead. the dog gnaws insistently on a bone nearby, raking it with her teeth like a garden trowel, hoping to sprout meat between them.... Continue Reading →
Nodulated hand curled, pen furled in grip, shaking at the ship’s wheel, making waves of paper edges. Hoping to dog-ear history, creating flaps reminiscent of flayed fish. Your body a place marker amongst words drowned in seas of lost literature, novice sailors dastardly shipwrecked upon the pages, evaporate under the illusion of the siren’s call.... Continue Reading →
Step right up to the political armchair, flip a coin for a Folk Devil! Scapegoats can't escape your fear-based ICE-laced Koolaid. Welcome to Alex Jonestown, sip the Red cupped cyanide, the curtain smoke screen rises for White Nights and cage frights. From the cradle to the courthouse, from the courthouse to the brothel - breaking the... Continue Reading →
One fateful night in 1954
A storm brought from the sky cold rain
Cracked tracks swollen below the downpour
The Hudson swallowed the runaway train!
And since that night our train disappeared
To the deep floor of the riverbed
Legend says it comes back ‘round every year
Collecting the souls of the dead
The train starts back up on the darkest of nights
To play reaper in spirit abductions
You’ll see in the black two shining lights –
And with that, let’s begin introductions!
One-eyed-Tom is no stranger to gore
Friendly guy – too much so, thought his wife!
She caught him in bed with the girl next-door
And wiped his smile clean off with a knife!
And Margaret here is such a dear!
But she was caught in a small mix up
She tried to poison her lover last year
And accidentally drank the wrong cup!
To you, it’s true…
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I am honored to have my poem published in the Feminine Collective this past week! I love this collective and I definitely recommend spending some time looking around. If you would like to read my poem, you can do so HERE. If you want to learn more about Shulamyth Firestone and how she inspired this poem,... Continue Reading →
They say that femininity is sweet to the taste
and too delicate to choke on.
It is a platter of cucumber finger sandwiches
and lukewarm tea served with sugar cubes
decoratively catered to the Male Gaze.
You, girl, are an edible doll.
Soft on the stomach, primed and proper to devour,
the only thing to satisfy a sweet tooth as well as a bored hand.
And you were always taught not to play with your food
but that didn’t stop him from making you desert.
You are the epitome of finger food,
your worth designed to be unraveled like licorice twists,
candy coated in curtseys, blush, low self-esteem,
and poisoned pastel femininity—
you delectable, delicate, porcelain machine.
You only let yourself bleed in pink.
As fingerprints are exchanged for your “purity”
you must melt on his tongue like chocolate
and always smile with your teeth—
nice girls don’t shatter on display for the world to see!
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I made a choice to share a moment that fleeted faster than I could grasp and yet forgot to take my heart with it. I guess feelings don’t fade faster than memories - which are like flowers that die slow and beautifully. Some still stick like honey while others melt away like bittersweet chocolate on... Continue Reading →
It is a long down from this dungeon fortress,
captive behind bars of fangs and smoldering dragon’s breath,
sliced open on the glimmering edges of his scales –
I placed her gently in an ivory tower, saved by chivalry’ sword
and shielded under my cloak and protected from the mighty
brutes and beasts lurking in the oceans and on the earth –
He stole my wings and stitched them onto his own back,
my flight stripped and swallowed by his gnashing jaw
and boiled in the fire of his belly, the heat allowing him to rise –
And she, the purest of the sexes, soft, porcelain, breakable –
exalted on her feminine pedestal, I bow to her, lifting her handkerchief
as if bestowing a crown upon her delicate forehead –
His dagger horns form a cutting crown, belying his total power,
he ruler of the earth, I, confined by his decree.
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