Poems
Break-up with whatever kind of poet that you think you’ve been. Write. Write them down, write your words, those beautiful words you’ve made up inside your mind when the creeping crawdad feelings scratched at the lid to be let out—can’t stand to be trapped inside the dark boiling water no more. Don’t spare them, don’t spare yourself, don’t spare anyone. Don’t spare anyone.
– Samantha Lê, (from “Of Beauty False”)
-
I only need a moment— a moment to come into my own Read more
-
With cornflakes, carnival songs and dancing lights inside my roller coaster head Read more
-
peeling back layers of purple onion she weeps Read more
-
Morning in History Park where you once walked upright, smelling of suspicions. Read more
-
She sweeps evening dust off grout lines with the straw broom Read more
-
I want all your Sundays— naked on the sofa Sundays Read more
-
On the last train from the city, she sat across the aisle and talked about sex-having saints. Read more
-
four years the only control I’m allowed is my breath Read more
-
the one made up of consonants and super hero punches Read more
-
a dispassionate rain sprinkles colors onto glassy morning tracks Read more
-
silvery faces the color of molt skin odors tasting of rice wine and warm dish towels Read more
-
I go on holiday to where the Other lives. Read more
