Grey shadows are platforms from which foliage sings; they speak of men, who for reasons unknown delude their wits about womankind, I wonder, in what way is that aesthetically or morally pleasing? Before I really begin the project, I have a few fragments of thought that urged me to do… Read more“Tearing down the Misogynist wall”
Fishhook barrel cactus casually eyes the moon; amber in hue and enticingly so, knowing well, it never hides a thing, its slow, deliberate rise and quiet strength, is at once a reminder of the shackles around my wrist, a nailed vulnerability through the palm, the blood moon, it’s not… Read more“Come, fleck the canvass with blood moon”
As white blossom, philosophical argument, and coveting of sorts, the idea of you consumes every feeling and every thought; late into the night, when even the wind resonates with waves of gentle seduction— I ask myself, where have I seen you before, a place where poets go to dream, or… Read more“As Pygmalion once yearned for Galatea”
To her, death is quite romantic. Almost soothing, as though sound of a lark singing, she listens closely, her petite frame encased in water that shimmers and glows. The events of her life flashing by as she floats away. Ophelia, lovelier than the sun itself, laments on a world that’s… Read more“Black Snow and Beyond”
An umbrella of hues upon fall of society spout; golds, browns and reds, enter the seawater at twilight, both frenetic and soft at the same time, as though espying the strongest base possible for rebuilding— I pace myself as we turn on the axis of fate once again. Who drank… Read more“A Scarlet Pause exists between Cirrus Clouds and City”
