by McKenzie | Jul 18, 2011 | Blog, My Poems
I remember how your hands were filled like small wheelbarrows, lacking their legs, lacking days, days filled with poems – * like the one where you find one of your manuscripts in the garbage – you look underneath a box of Krispy Kreme and there is a stack of your...
by McKenzie | Jun 20, 2011 | Blog, My Poems
“So go then,” she said, referring to the way the river was drained of water. Your front porch was filled with wind chimes, filling the corners of the deck, filling your house with hollow sounds. One day your belongings began to disappear. Windows opened – latch-less –...
by McKenzie | Jun 6, 2011 | Blog, My Poems
I remember you – the way your body fell like rain into the bed. Sheath after sheath – the smell of the room, the shape of your frame. You disappeared inside the mattress, the fabric turned to water. Your hair flailed like a fan, your fingers were spiders, the lack of...
by McKenzie | Jun 6, 2011 | Blog, My Poems
No one ever asked you what sin feels like. It travels to the ends of your hair, like every other poem you have written. [Metafiction.] You are the character that walks in the tide – the sand swallowing your feet, wishing for the strength of the undercurrent. You...
by McKenzie | Jun 1, 2011 | Blog, My Poems
1. You, you remember those earlier days when you walked along a more putrid river surrounded by chamomile and violets where the moon hung itself in the trees. The new moon became the funeral you walked into. You dreamt many times. 2. You remember how, once, your legs...
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...
