November - 2017

Art Imitations

photograph by Matt Mooney White lines on cement and mirrors, cars chase, miles drown, and i exude a brittle warmth. like a smoky bon...

arteries span out, tiny fingers grasping for life screens show me your face, a blurry monotone of the past. crevasses in trees cradle my...

Lazy eyes snaking across empty screens, you pull your weight around. She mumbles, hoping you turn around. Nothing but stillness catches...

Cradle of guitar strums, rib cages jutted like the fingers on strings, deep breaths inside hollowed trees, a remembrance of quiet deer,...

photograph by Matt Mooney My words seem looser, Harder to hold. Like grainy sand that slides between your fingers. You lay down to feel...

photograph by Matt Mooney Curled fists, I resort to baby talk. it’ll be okay. it’ll be okay. I don’t swat at bees, anymore. Ever since...

Particles, or fragments, settle inside my chest. The wind knocks my door as if I’m expecting someone. Invisible loneliness, I’ve heard...

You wanted to kiss her, you wanted to make love to her. But all you ever got was a puppet, waiting to be filled. She fell in love with...

Windows and screens peer into homes, webs of worlds into the unknown children seeing circuses filled with fat, white men, we eat the pigs...

My name is not as strong as yours. You taunt my fragility. A quiet sunset dips into creation, Tugging on my hair, you whisper, Come here....