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...
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 | 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....
