Another water. -Poetry Exercise

Spider Poem.png


I’ve just spun a web.

A web between a tree and another tree.

They are my trees now.

I’ve just spun a web between them.


Here comes a bug. Damn. It flew past me.

Here comes a bug.



I have a bug.

Another. I have two bugs.


Two bugs, two trees, one web, one me.

Here comes a drop of water.

Splash! on my web.


I run to bug, it struggles.

I spin web around it’s body.

Dead bug, it will be soon.


Another water, it breaks part of my web.

No. This I do not like.

I leave my bug to mend my web.

More rain, destroyed web.


I run up my tree past ants.


I cannot count past eight.

My web is gone, my bugs gone, too.


I cry eight tears from eight eyes.

Gone web, gone bugs, gone food.

Now I will starve.

Unless I build new web between new trees.

Location: Journal #1, written during church mass in which I did not pay attention

Time: 9 minutes.

Inspiration: Wingbeats II: Exercises & Practice in Poetry



Noad Cover.jpg

A text message at 2:36 AM woke me from a dream about a talking snake who wore a tube sock as pants. In the dim light of my phone I could see the outline of the pile of clothes on my computer chair that looked like a man sitting with his legs crossed. I might have known that his name was Charlie. It’s a common name, ill fit for a man who practices taxidermy and collects rocks from the bottoms of lakes he scuba dives.


Charlie tips his hat at me and takes a long drag of his cigarette. Charlie knows, of course, that one shouldn’t smoke lest they risk lung cancer, but Charlie has never been one to care about the time or reason of his death.


The talking snake warned me of a great flood that would submerge the city. The steady pattering of rain outside my window reminds me that I never let my cat in last night. I hear the soft mewing of my baby outside. She patiently waits for me to open the front door. I hope she can swim.

Continue reading “Noah”

Verismo (Opera Pt. 2)

Patrick sold out of heroin so instead he hands out flowers

Empty bodies find their way to the party

Some boy dressed as Jason has been talking for hours


About geography or geology and its infinite power

We tell him he’s too late, “yesterday was Halloween”

Clouds appear to nourish out plastic red flowers


Red little Poppy’s reach out for the showers

To wash away the negatives of yesterday’s memories

To forgive actions as they pass over hours


There’s a new band inside and they play a lot louder

To cover sounds of rain and the wind through the trees

They play not for fun, but for listening flowers


Cellophane bundles dead and dour

Pinned onto blouses and jackets of many

Unravelling quick, gone within hours


Jason’s in the bathroom shooting up the night’s tar

We open our bodies and fill them with rain

Droplets of water fall off our free flowers

We dance in the rain together for hours


Written for a Creative Writing Poetry and Prose course. Second in the series.

Opera (Opera Pt. 1)


Opera Cover

It was a serenade of hipster proportion

that happened to be outside this dingy house

that was two blocks or so from campus

that was packed to the brim with costumed folk

that had been searching endlessly for

that perfect party to end the night with


It was one of those kinds of parties

where flirting was limited to the people

who were full of liquid courage

from the community liquor or ecstasy that was scored

from that kid in the back dressed as Gerard Way


Some boy asked me if I was from around here

and swayed to the techno beat of a Mormon’s

Spotify playing Die Antwoord softly in the background

The boy shimmied his shoulders in sync to the shrill voice

of Yo-landi Visser singing ‘’Tech-Tech-Tech-Tech-Techno Heartbeat”


I told him I was from Austin to which he replied

“I heard it’s nice there in the summer”

which told me that he was from up north

where he hides away from the Texas heat

between semesters of musical theory and jazz


The cover band inside the house began to play that one

Dexy’s Midnight Runner’s song “Come on Eileen”

the clarity of the singer’s voice was very true to the original –

indistinguishable and sloppy

but it sparked an instant shift in energy

and everybody that wasn’t too far gone

began to jump in beat and sing as loud as they could

until the band could not be heard


My friends and I huddled into a large circle

partly to hold up those of us that could not stand

mostly to absorb each other’s body heat

and began this wonky “Ring-Around-The-Rosy” thing

and as the song got faster

we ran faster

until one of us threw up and coincidently

the bridge began


We pushed the vomiter into the center

and mocked her with our slow chant of

“Come On Eileen, Too-Loo-Rye-Aye”

and the vomiter who should have been angry at

her expulsion from our friendship circle

began to laugh so hard she peed a little

and then she began to cry


She wiped her eyes and smeared

the liquid eyeliner that made up the cracks

of her porcelain doll makeup


She mumbled some unintelligible cry behind

a hand that smudged the Toledo Opera M·A·C

lipstick that we all sported as a pledge of solidarity

and then spoke again

at a faint whisper

that her boyfriend was inside somewhere

flirting with some other girl


It was barely one o’clock and we had planned

to be out until four in the morning

but we picked her up off of the ground and linked arms

so that we were all in a row

partly to console her

mostly to absorb each other’s body heat


We skipped down the middle of the road towards the campus dorms

that were further than we thought

that were actually more like twelve or thirteen blocks

that were excruciatingly painful to skip due to the fact

that all us girls were wearing at least six inch heels


But we did it gracefully

as gracefully as possible with a third of us

completely wasted

and we Too-Loo-Rye-Aye-d the whole way

in our Toledo Opera M·A·C lipstick


Written for a Poetry and Prose course, first in the series.