Thursday, February 03, 2011


Ah dear misery,
ti amo,
friend to
the artist,
and author


Warm breasts pressed
against frigid glass,
as ice laced lips trip
over words frozen
in my mind,
I shiver in the wind
that howls between
our hands,
"if you dare to touch me now
you'll catch an early death,"
brittle words within my breath
freeze without a sound,
and tremble softly to my feet
like snowflakes to the ground.

Tuesday, February 01, 2011

sneeze, please

My head is full of words
stacked in neat, orderly, piles,
collecting dust, and waiting
for someone to sneeze.