by McKenzie | Sep 26, 2012 | Blog, My Poems
That morning, you told me you were terrified of poetry as a child. You told me stories of vines, stories of the things that continue to remain. I spent the following days imaging the dark circles left in the woods behind your house, looking in. * ...
by McKenzie | Sep 25, 2012 | Blog, My Poems
You turn in your sleep, and it is at times like these when I wish you could wake and listen: I am ill. I know there are times when you lie awake, hearing the sounds of another’s bed, hearing the sounds of children running in the streets after dark. These are...
by McKenzie | Sep 24, 2012 | Blog, My Poems
1. Create for me a river made of stone so that I may look nothing like you. 2. One thousand moons. Rutabagas at slumber. Soft birds. Each of these have something in common: They look nothing like you. 3. A girl runs through an...
by McKenzie | Sep 24, 2012 | Blog, My Poems
You and your wings have left me paralyzed—the ‘skeltered wings hanging like crows’ nests, indefinitely, fusing together like salt and ice. And she said: Please, do not call me darling anymore. The sky still carried some of the incense...
by McKenzie | Sep 10, 2012 | Blog, My Poems
Flutter and burn, you turn almost sideways, glinting like those who lay un-described and silent. Lackadaisical birds. Tell me something other than your two methods of circumference, the legality of chloroform, the two figures lost in the dark on the other side...
by McKenzie | Aug 27, 2012 | Blog, My Poems
(I apologize in advance; this poem needs a lot of work.) Psychology & Wine 1. At first, when she was nervous, the girl peeled the skin from the back of her heels—nibbled her lips, crimson-blue— until they were nothing but pulled onions, the pale moons...
