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Literature Text
It's the little things,
Lies as small as scorpions
And frogs, that broke us.
Lies as small as scorpions
And frogs, that broke us.
Literature
notesleep
playing my emphases like harp strings
your voice smokes thru the oaken bramble
pour a carbonated apology, a sun-stained
mile marked envelope, two ill-fitted birds,
hands small holes right before a rush of river
what it feels like being swallowed from the outside
crushing rings into truth serum, pretend
to be out of tune with that deception
I have been unable to parse my own persona
a pink cotton voice I remember thru the phone
I remember because it formed me into a granary
one crop after another of patriarchal idioms
whisper my secrets so softly into a glint of red hair
a saucer-eyed lace pattern cut into pine paper
I practice radical self lo
Literature
280
pen across paper
the rhythmic tapping of keyboard running
my being is letters
yet i cannot make words
Literature
In the Syllable
...then there is a way in diswaiting.
Dust some yellow sand covers,
here uncover bare bedding.
...suffusing red planes, blushed dunes,
under incidentally quilted blanket
wet as arid curves, as sounds.
...in a persistent pavement,
in a solemn unsuited promise,
some written words erase
some letters drip and soak
unto a perfuse miracle,
a dislocated split,
a letting go of...
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Not a proper haiku, because emjambment is sexy.
© 2013 - 2024 katiekerr
Comments5
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Ah, the little white lies we utter to reassure those we are close to that we are above our nature.
I cant speak about the sexiness of enjambment, but this poem speaks volumes.
I cant speak about the sexiness of enjambment, but this poem speaks volumes.