by McKenzie | Jul 20, 2011 | Blog, My Poems
There are days when summer and winter seem to reverse – unwind the flowers. You close the door. Knock as though dead limbs and leftover pollen will answer. You wind your way through the orchard as if you were a ghost. Haunt the underside of trees, unwind their roots....
by McKenzie | Jul 20, 2011 | Blog, My Poems
Sinful. Your lack of poetry – You. Becoming hollow. I see it coming every Wednesday – you become something – like ancient ruins. like peach trees reflecting in your eyes. As though your skin swallowed sunrise and the stars as though you deserved...
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...
