🙞 Southeastern US-based writer/poetess 🙜
white string lights, heavy beer with mulled spices, big furs--an apparition in the South, crisp air with leaves below that are
By Kayla2 years ago in Poets
I’ve said your last week was the most uncomfortable I’ve been without having to hold my body closer sometimes I wonder if ghosts watch us dress
earrings rest tessellated against my neck with a blotched mole on either side the sound of thoughts play on a symphonic triangle
the men I know write poems about sitting on the couch watching Frasier reruns and somehow it's profound I want to be like them
I know I want to explore bounds with you but I also want to reel everything back in I guess that’s what viewing life as an ocean is
God has dipped her brush in the ocean after painting the clouds milk bath, ripcurls curled tendrils, milk teeth Oceanid Clymene is holding it all up
when I see sea glass I know that it is the beer bottle thrown against the wall from my childhood the ocean tastes like cigarette ash & backwash
waves whip – lash out – foam fizzles out taken for granted amongst the sea comforting tessellations of mountains
. . . . . BEWARE CUIDADO picture rattlesnakes off the interstate of the Chihuahuan Desert rubber strewn about ghost towns
my dad passed – and by that I only mean that he died – and afterwards the speakers in his condo reverberated when I awoke I was alone
Saccharine ⥿ flashes of pink and silver with their scary fucking mouths captured from fresh water skin left intact
wig shops line Main Street and what comes to mind is our founding fathers patriarchal gods adorned with tendrils rights taken away
