by McKenzie | May 18, 2011 | Blog, My Poems
Your body has become the point where meeting can no longer take place— Your mouth filled with leaves the day you borrowed her dress (covered in small roses) and threw it – as if guided by an invisible line – out over the ocean. You led her to a place where you wept...
by McKenzie | May 16, 2011 | Blog, Literary Scene
I’m planning on closing down my other blog, The Ink Traveler, so I can focus on this one and implement some of the more important focal points, such as reviewing and keeping to the plan of writing daily. And then I found this one post on that other blog, and I...
by McKenzie | May 9, 2011 | Blog, My Poems
This poem needs some serious work — Of Trenches and Stones Believing him is the easy part when love begins to taste like blood and water. Metaphor- ically: she wastes away on a cloud of opium and small metallic wings. You can taste the flour in the bread – smell...
by McKenzie | Apr 29, 2011 | Reading
Don’t say Paris No one says Paris anymore. There’s no such thing as Paris, no Café de la Paix, no Titian’s Entombment in t he Louvre or Hotel La Sanguine with amaranth petals on the sheets. Don’t say Paris. When you utter the word I take off my long red gloves. I...
by McKenzie | Mar 19, 2011 | Blog, My Poems
1. You were ill that winter. The flowers in your windowsill caught the flu, their red petals turned yellow against the snow. You remember those. You remember the way their scent changed from rose to lavender. 2. And when Christ learned to walk, you weren’t surprised....
