she moves her eyes without moving her head

she's just a gray-eyed beauty
she's only an inch from perfect
she's just across the room

with her deep brown skin
and hair that sweeps her face
she darts her gaze to the left

it was art to me

Comments

mayhem

the link between sanity and insanity is but a snap: almost like a twig beneath your shoe in november and what happens when you can't leave your home because your anger and fear keep you prisoner, and all you want to do is be loved and be good at loving and quit hating everything including the cheap folgers coffee when you really wanted the good stuff from central market or why you can't reach your mother anymore because her pain is rearing it's ugly head over the phone and your siblings don't have much to do with you anymore, why? who really knows, maybe it's because you are becoming the one thing they hate the most but you don't know what that is and in two months you'll be 36 and you still do not have children and you are in financial ruin and you don't have the one thing you really want which is that front porch swing, but first you have to have the front porch. anyway. right?

4 stars

today **** only four stars out of five that's just because the sun seemed to spit at me it's march for goodness sakes, not july by the way, I imagine bugs must have taken hold of my stomach and brain mainly because I am itchy, nervous, quicker than usual they must be pulling me around with their 6 legs, 6 legs plus mine, that's greased lightning also, I might have been a killer in my past life, and not a pampered queen like I thought, this occurred to me as I was forced to put the kitchen knife down instead of bringing it into the office. i'm so cool ****

Erma, your house burned down

can you see it from the road? now that the world is through with us as girls, can your eyes as a grown woman see the fire, Erma? I bet you were crouched behind the tree from a safe distance watching with slanted brown eyes. I know you must have cried when your room busted like a cherry, your cherry. The room we fell asleep in, licking sour sugar from our palms, blaring heavy metal from a little radio, flashing small boobs at traffic. now that the world is through with us, now that the house is nothing but black dust.

dirt verse

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